#Soulmarks

[consouling]

Tim is dating Bernard at the time when he suddenly gets The Mark as neither Bernard nor him had a soulmark at the time.

But now he does have one, and Bernard doesn't.

Fic prompt #24

Dpxdc

Soulmate AU!

Danny and Wes are soulmates, even if they found it hard to accept at first, they eventually start dating. But after the battle with Pariah Dark, Danny receives a second soulmate symbol while Wes does not.

Meanwhile, Tim Drake, who had never had a soulmate symbol before, suddenly gets one overnight.

[nightblackowlbat]

Soulmate AU Dead on MAYn 25 day 1

Trope: Ghost culture is weird

Word: Bones

Scenario: Jason meets Dany as a ghost

Dialogue: “Wait, you can see me?”

Ever since Danny’s soulmate words came in, his parents’ attitude towards ghosts had done a 180. After all, what else but a ghost would say something like “wait, you can see me?” as an introduction? And if their perfect boy’s soulmate was a ghost, then ghosts couldn’t be all that bad. Jack and Maddie were soulmates after all, and they would never dream of trying to keep their son from his fated other half. (Maddie had the question “did you just build a spirit box out of a crockpot?” along her inner arm and Jack had “Obviously!” Stamped on his forehead.)

All that’s to say that the Fentons were no longer obsessed with catching any old ghost to study. No, instead they were obsessed with catching Danny’s soulmate to add them to the family. It made things pretty awkward when the portal opened up and the Fentons chased down every ghost to introduce their son, only to find Danny gone at the last minute and Phantom appearing to chase the other ghost back into the zone.

Danny was just about ready to die again of shame when Jack brought up the possibility that Phantom was his shy yet jealous soulmate, not ready to meet him yet but hating the idea of Danny meeting any other ghost first. Luckily Jazz pointed out that since Danny’s words were “wait you can see me?” It implied that his ghostly soulmate was a much weaker, invisible ghost that would only appear outside of Amity. Danny had never appreciated his big sister so much. He carefully didn’t mention that Phantom could go invisible at will.

Alas, one cannot stop a determined Fenton couple, only redirect them. Which is why they were on this grand family road trip to visit every cemetery and graveyard in America. Or at least, have Danny visit them. Jazz once again came in clutch insisting that nobody needed their whole family hovering around as they met their soulmate and demanded the parents visit colleges with her while Danny explored graves on his own.

Danny didn’t mind really, wandering around graveyards was far from the worst way his parents could have made him spend his summer. Besides, cemeteries were peaceful, beautiful even. And meeting (and teasing) the few ghosts who actually stuck by their graves was nice. Hey, as an obsession based ghost it was his right to poke a little fun at those boring graveyard ghosts who just stuck around their bones.

“Are you seriously haunting your own grave? I’m not sure I can think of anything more cliche and that’s coming from a ghost who goes by Phantom.” Danny tossed out as his usual cheeky introduction.

The ghost whirled around with a look of shock on his face. “Wait, you can see me?”

Danny felt his soul mark burn and his jaw dropped in mirrored shock. “Well I’ll be darned!” He laughed out loud. “I guess this trip wasn’t useless after all. Nice t’meetcha soulmate! I’m Danny.”

The ghost huffed. “Oh a’course I only meet my soulmate once I’m dead. Shouldn’a ‘spected any different given my weird ass words.”

“Uhm, I’m guessing you’re Jason? Or do you have a dead name you’d rather go by?” Danny nervously asked.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron? No one wants to go by their dead name. That’s the whole point.”

“Oh! Ghost culture is weird. Dead name means something different. It’s- a ghost’s dead name is who they want to be in death rather than who they were in life? Hmm. No, that’s not quite it. It’s who they always were, just crystallized and purified from everything that tainted it in life. Like, it’s who you are without life getting in the way.”

“Then. I guess I’m Robin. He can’t take that away from me now that I’m dead, now can he?”

[fangirlingpuggle]

SVSSS Soulmark AU/fic prompt where Shen Yuan and Airplanes world has soul marks but PIDW doesn't.

When Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are transmigrated there soul marks come with them.

Shang Qinghua is very much in denial that his soulmark is for Mobei Jun, after all it's not like to literally wrote Mobei Jun as his ideal man/soulmate, nope no way didn't happen.

Shen Yuan has been in denial for a long time since when he first read PIDW and LBH demon mark description looking down between his mark and the description and 'It's a coincidence totally my soulmate isn't...no he's not real this is stupid' and then after being in world is just in deeper denial.

LBH seeing mark after falling into abyss and remembering the mark he saw and Shizun and being like ...wait what?

Just LBH and MBJ trying to figure out about the marks while SQH and SQQ are like 'this is fine! I mean it can't mean anything right?? soulmarks aren't a thing here we can't be...can we???'

[bluemari23]

remember our touch || bangtan

summary: you try to push away your bad memories and your soulmates help you replace them with good ones.

pairing: idol!bts x reader

genre: soulmates, soulmarks, soulbands, angst, fluff

warnings: past depressed reader, bad memories, bad family, insecurities, anxious reader,

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

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You remember feeling so lonely, watching all of the couples in your family get together, dancing under the moonlight as another love song comes on through the speakers. Every wedding you could remember, after you were old enough, you always wondered if you would every find your soulmate, the person you were destined to be with. 

Your soulmark showed up when you were twelve; you even remember the exact moment. You were in your advanced world history course, learning about the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the specific impact it had on North Africa when you felt the immense burning on your left forearm, directly under your palm over your main artery. 

You remember crying out in pain, a sob breaking past your lips as you fall back into your chair, toppling back and hitting your head on the ground. You remember your classmates trying to help you, but your teacher’s words held everyone back. 

“It’s the soul burn initiating.” You remember freezing, despite the burning pain, and moving your hand away from your forearm, only for a line of foreign letters to stare back at you, blacker than the night sky without stars shining down.

The intensity with which you stared at your soulmark was nothing compared to the loneliness you began to feel as more than one line of letters began to appear, the burning intensifying until you promptly fainted from the pain. 

Then you woke up in the hospital, hooked up to fluids and receiving a visit from a Soul Specialist who specialized in multiple soul bonds. She was there to comfort you, to give you pamphlets and tell you how they identified your soulmarks to be Korean, that you were likely the youngest, given the intensity of the soul burn you felt when your marks came in. 

You were a rarity, having multiple bonds. Three bonds were an uncommon occurrence, but having seven was a one-in-a-million statistic. Your mom was handed a card with her number on it, in case you felt anymore burning in your marks, or if one of them disappeared, which you wouldn’t know the significance of until you were nearly 16. 

You remember the looks of disbelief changing to looks of disgust as you grew older. The way some family members would tell you that you didn’t deserve that many people to love you. That you weren’t important enough for it. And you remember the way your mother would defend you despite everything. 

And you remember how she was the one to push you to find your soulbonds when you turned eighteen, fresh out of high school from your small little mountain town. It would take you another almost six years before you were able to meet them, the burning in your arm leading you to them; the black, slowly turning, silver soulmarks the closer you were to them in proximity. 

You remember your first glance at two of them, in a shopping mall of all places. You didn’t get a glance at their faces, only at the way they also clutched their forearms, panic and alarm shown through their eyes as they looked down at you clutching your own in pain. 

It would take another day for you to meet the rest of your soulmates and activate your bond. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you stared up at the faces of BTS, your soulmates, in the middle of their living room after you were taken home from the hospital after fainting at the touch of your first soulmate. 

That was over two years ago and nothing could have made you happier than the way they looked at you; so much love and adoration in their eyes. You never would have thought you would meet them, but now you wish you looked for them sooner. 

-*-*-

You couldn’t help but to stare down at the invitation again, lost in your memories of the last family wedding you went to with your mother before she passed away. You sat towards the corner of the room, against the wall as you watched the DJ play another love song and asked for all the “lovely soulbonds” in the room to get up and dance. 

You were in the middle of the deepest depression you had ever experienced and couldn’t fight the amount of loneliness and despair you felt after coming back from yet another discussion of why your soulmates wouldn’t want you by one of your random great aunts. Your grandma had come and sat with you, held your hands and made you cry all in one sentence. 

“Your soul was split into eight because the fates new how much love you had to give.” 

That was the first time your view on your soulmates had changed, that you felt worthy of the names imprinted on your skin. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Jimin’s asked as you felt his arms wrap around your middle, leaning his chin on your shoulder after giving a soft kiss to your neck. 

“Just thinking about the last time I went to a wedding.” You whispered, still caught in your memories. Your soulmates new all about your history of depression and didn’t treat you any differently because of it. 

In the words of Taehyung, “That just means we are meant to be there for you and give you all the love you deserve.” 

And they did, every second of every day. 

“Well, this time, you need to make time for seven soul dances, don’t you?” You could practically feel the grin on his lips as he kisses your naked shoulder, his hand messing with the top of your towel. 

“Jimin, we don’t have time to mess around right now. Our lovely little soulmate needs to finish getting ready, as do the rest of us. We only have about an hour before we need to leave.” Namjoon makes his way in from the bathroom, catching you and Jimin by the dresser. 

“Yes, Sir.” You and Jimin’s voices mesh together, mischievous looks aimed at your older soulmate knowing what the title does to him. The look in his eyes only lets you know just what punishment you were going to receive when you got back to the hotel later. 

Once everyone was ready, you made your way downstairs to the reception hall, decorated in light blue and white almost resembling what Cinderella’s wedding would resemble. You held Jin’s hand as you walked up to the small table by the entryway, folded pieces of paper organized on the table with names and table numbers. 

Your table was just you and your boys, the eight of you found yourself in the almost front and center, feet away from the long table where the bride, your cousin, and her soulmate would be sitting with their wedding parties. 

You knew why. Despite your family’s belief before you found your soulmates, once they found out you were bonded to seven extremely famous and rich men, their views changed. Now you were the favorite cousin, favorite niece. The one they always called when something went wrong and they needed money. 

“We could always just kidnap your grandma and go have dinner somewhere nice.” Jungkook leaned over and whispered in your ear, holding your hand so that you didn’t continue to pick at your nail beds. You didn’t even realize they were bleeding until he held them, using one of the napkins from the table to gently wipe the blood away. 

The boys, despite only meeting your grandma a couple of times, fell in love with her the moment they met. She had slapped Jimin with her purse when he didn’t pull your chair out for you. Apparently, all the boys needed was to see Jimin get hit before they loved someone. 

“Yeah, baby. Just say the words. Or even hit Jimin with your purse.” That earned Yoongi his own slap from the offended man. 

As nice as that sounded, dinner with the loves of your life and your beloved grandma, you knew you needed to be here. Even if you may not have wanted to come in the first place. You needed at least one good memory from a wedding that wasn’t your own. You needed to fight your own anxiety and bad memories. 

You needed to create new ones. 

Jungkook and Hobi both held your hand as the ceremony proceeded, squeezing every so often when your own grip tightened with anxiety. Weddings were a source of anxiety for you as it was the one place where all your depressive thoughts stemmed from. Just having them here, holding your hands and whispering sweet things into your ear was already a huge help to you. 

The real anxiety inducing moment was when the ceremony ended and the reception started, giving your family the perfect moment to rain down comment upon comment about your soulbonds. 

“You know, we used to think her marks were drawn on.”

“I told her before that she would never meet her soulmates and now look at her!”

“We always used to joke that her soulbond was a prank by the fates. I mean, seven soulmates. That never happens.”

“It’s a good thing her marks were real, or she’d be alone after her mom died.” 

That last comment was the last straw for you and your soulmates. Your older cousin, even if only by a couple of months, was always the one who started the jokes about your soulmarks. Even once dousing your arm in alcohol to “reveal the skin underneath”. 

You could vaguely hear the DJ announcing a soul dance and then the soft beat of another love song when Yoongi’s cold voice broke through his scarily calm demeanor. 

“Don’t ever speak about her mother again. Our soulmate has been through enough without you bringing in her mom as an offhanded comment.” Despite English being his second language, he was surprisingly good at coming up with amazing comebacks and defensive statements. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to go and dance with our lovely soulmate and shower her with the love and affection her family should have shown her.” Jungkook finished Yoongi’s words, his piercings and tattoo’s coming off incredibly intimidating to your religious cousin. 

Taehyung led you onto the dancefloor first, right on the edge where your soulmates could stand next to you both. He cupped your cheeks, holding you close as he wiped away your slow-falling tears. 

“None of that. I want your next memory of a wedding to be a beautiful one, filled with the love of your soulmates. I want you to remember our touch, how we held you close and sang into your ear.” Taehyung was passionate in his beliefs, and it was hard to shake his mind when he believed in something, no matter how powerful that belief was. It was one of the reasons you loved him. 

You spent the rest of the reception being held and twirled on the edge of the dancefloor, experiencing the love you always dreamed of and wished for in the past. The touch of your soulmates keeping you grounded and reminding you what love was supposed to feel like. 

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Soulmark AU again

So in this AU, Dani was born to look 8 (I never understood why she looked 12 but whatever. Danny was 14 in this AU) and Damian arrived at Gotham when he was 10.

Dani traveled the world for around a year before she meet Damian when they were 9. Damian is with the League at that time

Obviously, they are soulmates. You can decide their mark.

As per League custom, any heir must kill or destroy any distractions.

And that includes Soulmates (because Ra’s is an ass)

So, Damian’s first solo mission, he has to track down his soulmate and kill her.

But when it was time, he couldn’t do it.

He let her go, telling her to never contact or try to find him, and he would do the same. Dani leave, very angry (Poor Baby bat didn’t think he had another option)

He burned the body of a dead deer, and told his mother that he scattered Danielle’s ashes in the river.

Years go by, Damian moves to Gotham, and never mentions Danielle to his family. He didn’t even tell them that he knew who they were. He was ashamed 9f what he tried to do. Even if he didn’t manage to succeed.

When they’re both 16-17, Damian comes across Danielle in Gotham (she doesn’t know he was there. She never tried to look for him)

And because she was left dry by her soulmate when she was 9, she’s kind of bitter.

So she leaves, but she told him he would have to deal with her presence because she and her older brother are in Gotham for the foreseeable future.

Damian sees this as a golden chance to get her forgiveness and gain her trust.

The only way for that to happen is if his family doesn’t meddle. The only ways that’ll happen is if they doing know.

So Damian never tells them.

Dani doesn’t tell Damian she’s a ghost, nor why she and Dante are in Gotham (GIW got a hold on Danny and he’s healing in the GZ)

Dani attends Gotham Academy with Valds money. And she and Damian share a couple of classes. Meanwhile, the GIW is in Gotham searching for the High Princess and High Prince. Siblings of the King.

Shenanigans include

-Damian and Jason becoming a regular at the bookstore Dani works at, but they come at different times.

-Steph and Cass are on a date when they run into Damian and Dani, also on a date. It quickly becomes a double date.

-Alfred and Clockwork are old friends and Alfred is either a ghost or extremely liminal.

-Titus and Cujo friendship.

-Wiggles the dragon. I recently found out he existed and live him already

-Bruce getting shot while on Patrol and the closest place was Dani’s and Dante’s apartment

-Peopel can sense when their soulmate is about to die/get extremely hurt. Dani senses Damian is in danger and kills(?) (at least gravely injured) his attacker

-Sam visiting Gotham and strangling the Joker with Undergrowth powers

BONUS!!

Each member of the Royal family needs their own Knight (typically their soulmate/lover of choosing. Sometimes not)

Dante decides to have Fright Knight as his Knight (as soulmates or friends you chose)

Danny has Sam and Tucker, so he’s extra safe.

Dani has Damian.

The reason this is funny is maybe there’s a trademark summoning scene and maybe the knight shows up with the royal member, or maybe they show up first to scout if it’s safe.

So there’s a summoning and Damian pops in the middle of the circle looking confused

If he didn’t know he was Dani’s knight, even better.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 3: But I Don't Want to Carry On Like Everything Is Fine

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy and we all know he's a warning. Homophobic comments towards Hughie (It's Soldier Boy y'all), Self deprecating thoughts, ANGST, SADNESS, HEART RIPPING OUT OF CHEST (figuratively because it's what it felt like to write this), Fear? Mentions of past graphic death, Mentions of torture (SB in Russia), Cursing, Mentions of past abuse (verbal abuse and it's SB doing it to someone because… we ALL know), Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.9K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: Love In The Dark By Adele (Title for chapter taken from this song)

Playlist For Series!✨

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

A/N: I know this chapter is a long time coming, but thank you so much to everyone who has loved this series so far, and for encouraging me to come back to it. I hope y'all are strapped in for a ride, because this is when all the angst starts to unfold… But also… I might have changed up the Soulmate AU even more in a crazy more heartbreaking direction so, there's that too

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Guide:

Reader's thoughts are in italics and in first person.

Ben's thoughts in italics, bold, and blue!

Previously:

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze.

You stand there in the silence that follows the words of your soulmate, the rough vibration of his voice still trembling through your fingertips where they lay against his chest, as you stare up into his hypnotic green eyes. The sunlight that streams in from the windows at you back traces the hardened edges of his handsome face turning his dark hair a honeyed brown. A smile pulls at the end of his lips, crinkling his eyes, and bringing a softness to the rugged features that make your heart beat quicken.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and yet nothing what you’d expected. You briefly wonder if you were what he expected, but judging from the women you'd seen him with in his memories you weren't, given that you looked nothing like them.

The air around the both of you warms as electricity pops and crackles along your skin skittering against the flesh and bringing goosebumps in its wake. A wave of heat travels from where Ben's hand is gently cupping your chin in his calloused fingertips, that makes you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

Nothing else exists in the world except the two of you. There's no need to breathe, no need to see, and no need to speak, because all you know is your soulmate. You can feel the beating of his heart in your own chest, feel the thrum of electricity in his body along your nerve endings, and each breath he takes you can feel vibrate in your lungs.

You'd spent years feeling like a freak, lost, and out of place, but standing here with Ben so close that you can feel his breath on your face, makes you feel whole for the first time in your life.

He's still too far away.

A voice whispers in your ear and you long to close the distance between the two of you, to hold him tight and never let him go.

The date on your wrist sears hotter than it did the first day you met him burning through the foundation once again that you'd smeared across it to hide it  and the golden cord that wove through the air securing his heart to yours seconds ago grows so hot that it turns a blinding white. And just as you think you'll have to shut your eyes from the brilliant light, the cord squeezes your chest to tight it takes your breath away.

You inhale sharply as a flood of emotions comes washing over you that aren't your own, memories that you'd only seen in your dreams flash through your mind as if you lived them, and Ben's eyes widen as he feels the same thing. His heart beats in tandem with yours, the space between you growing to almost nothing as the cord yanks you so close that you can feel his breath on your lips and his hands fall to your hips to steady you against him, sending goosebumps prickling over your body with his touch.

You'd read about what it was like to meet your soulmate before and people had tried to tell you, but for everyone it was different and no one ever described as anything like this. Especially not happening a second time after they'd crossed paths.

This shouldn't be happening, we've already met.

But you know you're not imagining this, you know that your soul is singing to Ben's, calling out to his and both of them are twisting between the two of you, weaving you together, binding you as one.

The spark in the pit of your stomach you felt the moment Ben's eyes locked with yours has begun to flare again until it burns into a wild-fire, but it's not love you feel, not compassion, not relief, or love, it's fear.

It sobers you.

Its cold finger drags down your spine and seizes in your chest, wiping away whatever else you're feeling for the handsome man standing only millimeters from you.

The Ben's memories you re-lived in your dreams come roaring back like a lion over a kill, each one more horrific than the last.

You see your soulmate standing triumphantly over bodies burned beyond recognition, see him beating someone into submission his fists splattered with red, watch as he laughs at the torment of his younger teammates and then opens his mouth to say something so repulsive it makes your skin crawl, and you see the proud smirk when he knows he's won, when he knows that he can't be beaten and no one can stop him.

He had no remorse in any of those moments, no compassion, no regret, there was only the pride and arrogance that comes with his belief that he had bested whomever attempted to challenge him.

Nothing about him is gentle, caring, or kind and nothing about him is anything like you.

You who'd never been in a fight your entire life, you who tried your hardest to make sure that no one ever felt what it was like to be alone as you had for so many years, you who always put others first, and you who tried to always find something kind to say about someone else.

Everything about your soulmate and who he is terrifies you, chills you to your core and wipes away the sensations that skittered along your skin and buried themselves in your heart moments ago.

He can't be mine. Not someone like him. Please no, anyone but him.

Your soulmate's head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow with confusion, mouth twitching into a frown, and you realize that he can feel your fear, maybe even hear it in the quick pulse of your heart or maybe he could smell it.

You weren't sure how his powers worked, all you knew was that you'd seen what he'd done with them, you’d seen the kind of person he was, and you wanted no part of that even if it meant being alone.

You'd spent your entire life waiting for this moment and now you wish it never came.

The cord between you snaps, the sound like breaking glass, but the man's emotions still remain in your head. You feel his confusion, his apprehension, and underneath it all you feel something else, something vulnerable that flicks away in an instant.

You step back from him, allowing his hands fall from your waist, prepared to run, needing to put as much distance between the two of you, but his fingers closes hard on your wrist just over his birthdate, hard enough to bruise.

I have to get of here.

"Where are you going?" He asks, his voice gruff, the sound of water over rocks, smoothing the sharp edges, answering your thought with a question.

"Please let me go." You say, unable to catch your breath and tugging at where his hand tightens around your wrist.

The feeling of his skin pressed to yours is overwhelming, begging you to curve into him, to sink into the warmth of your soulmate and never resurface for air.

But you can't. The fear is there, rising in the back of your throat, clamping down hard and stopping the rush of oxygen to your brain.

You weren't like Butcher, you didn’t hate supes, but you also weren't unrealistic or clueless about them. You didn't believe that all of them were bad, because with the bad came the good.

Your brother's soulmate Annie was proof of that, a supe that wasn't evil or callous or on a power trip to make others submit to her will. She cared for other people, used her powers to help others, but not all supes were like her.

Your brother had told you to stay away from supes like your soulmate, warned you about Homelander before he vanished, and warned you that not all supes were as they appeared. Although, Hughie had tried hard to keep his life separate from yours, Butcher believed you had a right to know that the supes who promised safety and freedom would be the first to take it away from you.

The stories Butcher had told you about Homelander kept you awake at night fearing for your brother and Annie’s safety, and your own. You knew that the new leader of the Seven, Stormfront, was just as bad, if not worse.

As much as you believed in the strength of your brother's soulmate, there was another part of you that knew she might not be a match for Stormfront, at least not on her own.

You yank your hand again trying to break his grip, but it doesn't move from Ben's grasp.

Why is she trying to leave?

Ben's voice in your head makes you hesitate, eyes widening as you look up into his face. You knew that Ben didn't say that out loud and yet you'd heard it. 

Holy shit, how can I hear his thoughts? Can he hear mine?

You weren't a supe and you didn't understand why you could hear his thoughts and feel his emotions, or why you hadn't been able to feel or hear them in the year since the two of you met.

What the fuck is going on? Ben's voice says louder in your head and you don't understand what the hell was going on. No one in history had ever been able to hear their soulmate's thoughts or their emotions, you knew that for a fact.

"Let me go!" You say louder.

All other sounds of whispered conversations and tinkling glasses have stopped as everyone in the room turns to stare at the two of you.

Your emotions were overwhelming, the part of you screaming to run away fighting with the urge to get closer to Ben.

His confusion floods into you as well as a slew of other emotions from him that you can’t put a name to. He doesn't understand why you're trying to get away from him and why he can feel your emotions either.

"But-" Ben begins to say.

You're my soulmate. His thought finishes in your head.

"Let her go." Hughie says appearing on your left.

The confused look in Ben's eyes shifts to annoyance, the green hardening within a second. "Fuck off. This isn't your problem." He snarls gaze flicking to your brother who looks closer to anger than you'd seen him in years.

Ben's anger and annoyance comes in a wave of heat, scorching up your arms and into your chest, clawing against your ribcage.

What the hell is happening?

"Oi let her go mate." Butcher's voice joins Hughie's and you can feel the presence of the other man hovering just over your shoulder.

Truthfully you liked Butcher. You thought he was funny and that he cared more about other people more than he was willing to let on. Not to mention after he lost his Soulmate, Becca, Butcher didn't have much to do, so you’d invite him over for movie nights with Annie and Hughie so you didn't feel like the awkward fourth wheel. Butcher was as much your friend as he was Hughie's.

I didn't fucking ask to butt in you British cunt. Ben's thought burns through your body with a wave of his anger and you can feel the heat of his skin raise.

Another shiver of fear courses down your spine at the thought of Ben losing control and burning you alive just as he had done to his teammates.

Ben's eyes drop back to yours when you whimper in pain, trying to free your wrist from his grasp, and this time Ben releases you.

The warmth you felt from touching his skin is gone, leaving only a dull throb in your wrist as you clutch it to your chest, eyes wide with fear and horror.

Ben's eyes drag down your body to your wrist and you can feel a flicker of something that might be guilt, but you're not sure if he can feel things like that. All you know is that you have to get away from him.

Why is she afraid of me?

Ben's thoughts are back, vibrating through your skull and bringing a wave of emotion with it that's not yours. You back away from him, but Ben takes a step forward to fill the space you left behind reaching for you again.

"Don't touch me." You whisper, throat thick. You couldn't tell what were his emotions and what were yours colliding in your head, all you knew was that you didn't want him anywhere near you.

Stay away from me! You think taking another step back. Ben tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He takes another step towards you still not comprehending what is happening, frustration and confusion burning through the air between the two of you.

You'd seen the short temper your soulmate had, saw what happened to people on the wrong side of it, and you cringe away from him in fear. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of his fist or whatever the hell he had locked away in his chest.

Please don’t hurt me.

The thought comes before you can stop it and you watch something flash in Ben’s eyes that looks surprisingly like hurt.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben says, eyebrows furrowing together. “I’m your soulmate, I’d never hurt you.”

It confirms what you already know, that Ben can hear your thoughts just as you can hear his.

You back up into Butcher's chest and he drops his hands down on your shoulders to make you feel better.

Get your fucking hands off of her. She's mine!

Ben's voice roars in your head. The wave of jealousy and rage that you feel rip through your body at the feeling of Butcher's touch scorches against your insides.

"You should go." Hughie says calmly, but you can hear an edge to his voice.

"I'm not going fucking anywhere you overgrown glory hole!" Ben snaps, eyes flashing in the light of the sun behind you, the soft green long gone, but falling on you once more.

Why is she acting like she's not my soulmate? Like she doesn't want me?

Ben's voice asks in your head, the words snagging in something deep down that you thought you locked away years ago, the empty place inside that you longed for someone to fill, the empty place you knew that this man was supposed to belong.

No. No. No. Why is this happening to me?

"Hey, you don’t get to fucking speak to him like that in our house!" Annie shouts back at Ben, her eyes narrowed at the man who was at least two heads taller than she was.

It was all too much. You couldn't be here, not with all these people watching you. You move out of Butcher's grip and around Ben as close as you dare, trying to get to the front door and away from him. You could feel everyone's eyes on you and hear their silent judgement.

It reminded you too much of your childhood, the one you spent wishing that the whispers and odd looks would stop, the one when people would cross to the other side of the road like you had something contagious, the one where you felt so alone that you couldn't standing it and when you wished that someone, anyone, would fill the hole you felt inside for far too long. The same hole that you couldn't feel when Ben was touching you.

"Wait-" Ben begins to say, voice gruff, while trying again to grab you, but you dodge his hand and run full speed at the front door of the apartment.

Come back.

There's something behind those words that grates against your heart, but you don't turn around.

Hughie and Annie shout your name, but you're already gone. You can’t be here, not now, not with him standing there, not when he's everything you'd thought you'd never have and yet, everything that you fear.

Your footsteps pound against the cracked pavement, the world around you a soundless blur with every pump of your arms. Rain swats against your skin as you run, each slap of your bare feet against cracked pavement mirroring the thunder that shakes the buildings around you.

You'd lost your shoes the minute you broke into a run outside Hughie and Annie's apartment, and you were too afraid to go back for them.

Water trickles down your spine, bringing the chill of the rain with it, but you can’t feel it, the only thing you feel is the flood of emotions you'd had since the moment you ran into your soulmate again, the one who left you on the street one year ago like you meant nothing to him. 

Funny, when that happened you thought that was the worst of it, but it wasn't.

What did I do to deserve this?

Flashes of your soulmate's memory echo the lightning above, the horrors you witnessed in the sweet abyss of sleep that haunted your mind. Bloody fists, blackened bodies, harsh laughter, and clips of dialogue play through your mind on a sickening loop.

You ran as if you thought you could leave it all behind, as if you could leave him behind, but he was everywhere. He was in the faces of the people in the crowds, in the sound of the thunder, in the thrum of your blood through your veins, in each beat of your heart, and in each breath you took.

The look he had on his face when you fled was there, bringing a wave of guilt for leaving him behind the way that he left you one year ago.

But he left me before he knew me. I know him. I've seen what he's done. I-

The thought brings the memory of the hurt that flashed through Ben's eyes at the apartment back into your head.

In all the memories you'd seen of him, you'd never seen him look hurt, but it was there somewhere, slipping through whatever warped telepathy the two of you had, the telepathy you didn't understand.

How could someone you waited for your whole life fill you with such dread? How could the man who was the other half of your soul, be anything like the man you met?

In the past you'd tried to imagine who it would be, what your soulmate would look like, how he'd treat you, and what kind of man he'd be. You'd seen a faceless man holding sunflowers out to you, a man holding you while you cried, a man sitting with you curled on the couch while you read through one of your favorite books with your head leaning on his shoulder, a man taking you to bed while your fingers clasped his above your head and the soft sound of his voice telling you how much he loved you, a man who touched you reverently, as if you were something to be worshipped, a man who made you feel safe and who would listen when you talked to him, a man who remembered the little things, a man who took care of you, and a man who sat with you while you graded papers and sighed to yourself at the end of a day that seemed endless.

Now it all seemed like a big lie, because your soulmate could never be that man. You'd seen exactly who and what he was.

The idea that you were cursed seemed to fit now, because there had to be something or someone above laughing at your expense, making you suffer all the years you were alone dreaming of a man who could be those things for you only to give you the one man who could be none of them.

Annie and Hughie were perfect in every way. All the little things that made each of them unique molded together to create something beautiful. They loved each other in a way that made your chest hurt to look at them.

You'd wanted that so badly for so long.

And now the stars laughed at you because they'd given you him.

You didn't think it would be possible for you to ever love someone like him. Someone who took from others and gave none in return, someone who found joy in the submission of others, and someone who hurt and killed with no remorse.

Monsters did that, men who thought the world owed them something or rather that the world should submit to them, men who took and took and never once cared what it did to the people around them, and men who never saw anyone else as an equal.

In the past you'd thought that your soulmate of all people would see you as something more than just a possession, but rather something that strengthened him, made him stronger with your love and care, made him a better man, and a man who saw you as someone, not something.

People clear out of your way, parting to watch what they must believe is a woman driven mad, running shoeless, down the streets of NYC in the middle of a torrential downpour.

And maybe you were crazy to run from someone who looked like your soulmate did.

There was no denying that he was gorgeous. He looked like he stepped right out of a book, the dashing dark-hared brooding hero with sharp features and green eyes you wished to lose yourself in. Your soulmate looked like every lead male character you'd imagined and fallen in love with in every book you ever read. The novels you read when everything in the real world was disappointing and bleak, the ones that opened their pages and welcomed you home, promised an escape from the mediocre and enveloped you in the extraordinary.

He looked like everything you ever wanted. Something taken from your unconscious and made real.

Why me?

The fear was back, the cold trickle that became a roar blocking out the little voice inside your head that scolded you and told you to turn around and go back to him, that you needed him, the little voice that told you he was yours, that he was made for you, just as you were made for him. The voice that promised after years of being alone and filled with a cold, empty feeling, all you had to do was turn around and run back to the sun.

But you can't go back, because you're not sure if your soulmate is even human anymore.

In the past your bathtub had been a place of solace where you could have a nice glass of wine and lose yourself in a good book, but today the warm water did little to sooth the anxiety prickling on the back of your neck.

There was a Rosemary Mint candle lit on the small counter next to the sink sending a flickering yellow light over the worn subway tiles in your bathroom. One of two candles Annie had gifted you for Christmas in a handmade basket full of things to pamper yourself and a candle that was supposedly good for "stress relief" but you were prepared to call bullshit on that given the state of your nerves.

The plush white bathrobe hanging on the back of your bathroom door, the jar of soothing lavender bath salts nestled into the elbow of your tub, and the face masks scattered on the bathroom counter also came from the same basket.

All of which served as another reminder of how perfect she was for your thoughtful and caring brother.

The thought brings a wave of sadness over you and you lean your head into your knees.

None of this was helping.

You couldn't remember coming home, didn't remember running up the creaky stairs to your floor, didn’t remember passing by Mrs. Charleson's apartment with the happily painted yellow door, didn't remember unlocking the five locks on your apartment door, and certainly didn't remember slipping into the warm bath you found yourself in.

The only thing you could remember was meeting your soulmate, feeling the warmth of his caress over your skin, hearing the smooth rumble of his voice like distant thunder, and seeing how the memories you'd seen did not do justice to the handsome and rugged features he had.

A shiver of fear follows and your tighten your arms around your knees.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be different.

You think to yourself as your eyes drift to the hand print on your wrist, the one that had already begun to turn an ugly blue and ironically was curved over the birthdate that glowed gold in the flickering light.

Why him?

A wave of guilt comes swiftly when you think of the way he looked at you when you thought that in front of him.

How could he hear my thoughts? How could I hear his thoughts and feel his emotions?

There were so many things about the soulmate bond the two of you had that made no sense. You knew for a fact that no one else could see their soulmates memories when they slept, but the ability to hear your soulmate's thoughts and feel his emotions? It was impossible. And unless someone had spiked your drink with compound V at the party, you still weren't a supe and had no idea what the hell was going on!

But you were thankful that you couldn't hear Ben's thoughts and emotions right now. You didn't know why that was and hoped it meant that it only happened when you were around him or hoped it meant that it would never happen again.

The memory of how you met Ben again sends a warm feeling from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Another mystery… why it was like that to meet Ben the second time.

None of your friends ever told you that it was like that to run into your soulmate a second time.

Then again what other soulmate leaves you standing in the street alone?

The golden cord glows behind your eyelids, the cord that bound Ben's heart to yours for a few precious seconds, a moment that lasted forever. You'd never heard anyone talk about a golden cord before either. Annie said that when she met Hughie it felt like fireworks, but she never talked about feeling like she was bound to your brother or told you that it was anything like what you’d experienced with Ben.

What the hell is going on?

When you'd told Mrs. Charleson that you were dreaming Ben's memories she'd said that she'd heard a myth about it, that it meant the two of you were "meant to share more than one lifetime together," (whatever that meant), but she'd never mentioned anything about a cord that wove soulmates together. You would have gone to talk to her after the train wreck that happened at the party, but you knew that she was still at work.

Despite the fact that she had more than enough money to retire, your neighbor argued that people "who slowed down got old." She'd been running a successful apartment and house cleaning business for years, but about a year ago a man had hired her to clean his apartment and cook for him full time. He'd offered her so much money that your neighbor no longer needed to clean anyone else's home and was employed as his housekeeper.

You didn't know anything about him, didn't even know his name, but your neighbor said he was a kind young man who often reminded her of her son and was richer than a piece of french silk pie. You supposed he was a wall-street guy or the founder of some tech company, but you couldn’t believe the descriptions of his apartment she told you or the pictures you'd shown you.

It sounded and looked like a palace so far in the air it might as well be a castle in the sky, but you wanted to see it in person.

You did like your apartment, but it was too small even just for you. The thought of having a place where you could have a real desk, sunlight, consistent water pressure, a breathtaking view, and no super who only responded to twenty dollar bills and asked you for pictures of your feet daily sounded heavenly.

Not to mention it would be nice not to live somewhere with walls so thin you could hear your neighbors having obnoxiously loud sex at all hours of the night like bats. You had no idea how they ever got anything done with so little sleep.

And yeah, maybe Mrs. Charleson and you had made fun of the guy's decorating choices, but you figured that maybe he just needed someone to help him pick out furniture that was a little more comfortable to make his apartment seem less like a museum and more like a home. Mrs. Charleson had said he was single anyway, which meant that guy probably hadn't met his soulmate and when he did, they would help him out.

The front door of your apartment opens and fear momentarily spikes at the thought of it being your soulmate, that he'd somehow figured out where you lived, and he'd find you naked and vulnerable in the bathtub.

But then you hear your brother shout your name from your living room and a wave of relief crashes over you.

"I'm in the tub." You yell back.

Honestly, you didn't feel like talking to anyone, not after the day you had. You wanted to forget it happened, to go to bed and go to work tomorrow as if everything were normal and not as if your life was falling apart. It always felt like it was falling apart, but today was exceptionally heart breaking.

"Can you come out?" Hughie asks. You can hear him lean his head against the door of your small bathroom and you imagine his frown.

"I don't feel like talking right now." You reply pushing your face further into your knees.

"I brought tacos."

You hesitate for a second. Your brother and you had always been close. Sure there were those awkward sibling moments and a little bit of sibling rivalry and times when Hughie annoyed you to no end, but he was your best friend. It was him who encouraged you to become an English teacher despite the constant disapproval from your parents, him who loaned you enough money to get out from under their roof and start your own life, and him who always knew just the way to cheer you up… hence the tacos.

"And a blind date from Inky's Inspirations." He continues.

Damnit.

Inky's Inspirations was your favorite used book store. You had spent many a weekend curled up in one of the holey reading chairs with a worn paperback in your hand, letting the rest of the world fall away while you were lost in a book that whisked you away on ink and paper with gentle prose. The store had started doing "blind dates," wrapping up books in brown paper with descriptors like "Will melt your panties" or "Made me realize I have a bondage kink" or "Supernatural creature hunter vibes" or "In case you're curious about what the inside of the Loch Ness monster looked like."

That last one had been a supernatural romance that you still weren't sure if you liked it or not. It had been interesting...

But you were under the impression that no one could have too many books. The books scattered all over your apartment and stacked up so high they hit the ceiling were proof of that.

You sigh to yourself cursing your thoughtful brother. "Give me a second."

When you come out of your bathroom wearing your favorite soft t-shirt and sweatpants, your brother envelops you in a warm hug, and unfortunately undoes the little relaxation you felt when you took a bath and makes you begin to cry.

Worse was that a little part of you wished that it wasn't your brother but your soulmate who was here holding you, or rather the version of the soulmate you'd invented in your head, not the man you’d seen earlier.

It made all of this worse, that you were still so alone and sometimes you couldn’t understand how you could feel so alone with so many people in your life who cared about you. But you wanted him, wanted the other half of your soul to hold you close against him, to feel the warmth of his body curving around yours as he told you that everything was going to be okay.

It hurt more than you knew it would, especially now that you knew he existed.

Sobs shake through your body as you cling to your brother and rub your nose into the front of his shirt as everything from today washes over you all over again. Meeting your soulmate again after a year, having all those feeling and emotions roll through you, seeing flashes of his memories again, and running away from him as fast as you could.

You felt lost and yet there was a voice whispering in your ear that told you that the only place that you could be found was back with the man who held the other half of your soul.

"Shh. It's alright." Hughie soothes, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "It's okay."

It was the same thing that he used to tell you when you were younger and nothing made sense, when it felt like you were a freak because of the date printed on your wrist.  The same days when you'd ask yourself the ultimate question: would it be okay?

But now you knew the truth… it wouldn't be.

Because you'd hoped and prayed to meet your soulmate every day of your life, and now that you had, you wished that it never happened, because the man who grabbed you so hard it bruised your skin couldn't be the man you imagined falling in love with when you were a little girl.

"Are you okay?" Hughie asks you.

"No." You murmur pulling back to clean your tear smudged glasses.

Hughie was still wearing the light blue button down shirt from the party, and you feel a wave of guilt crash over you thinking that you ruined his and Annie's housewarming party.

Your brother presses his lips together. "I'm sorry-" He begins to say, but you interrupt.

"I'm the one who should be saying that."

"What? Why?"

"Well I ruined your party and-"

"Are you kidding? No you didn't! That asshole did-" Hughie frowns. "I don't know what he was thinking grabbing you like that."

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat remembering the grip Ben had on your arm.

"Did he hurt you?" Hughie picks up your hand to examine your wrist, frowning at the handprint. "What a dick!"

Your brother didn’t usually get angry, he was more of a suffer in silence kind of person who kept all their emotions a little more close to their chest, but he looks livid. "I swear the next time I see him I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. He shouldn’t have fucking grabbed you like that-"

The thought of your gentle brother yelling at Ben makes a lump of worry catch in the back of your throat. You didn't want Ben to hurt your brother, he was only person in your entire family that made you feel like you belonged.

"Hughie calm down, it's okay."

It wasn't and you both knew it.

"No it's not. He could have broken your arm!" He snaps.

"He didn't." You murmur.

But he could have.

Those words are like taking a bullet to the chest. You’d seen exactly what your soulmate was capable of and exactly how he acted when he didn’t get his way.

What did I do to deserve this?

"That doesn't matter! He didn't have a right to treat you like that. Like you're-"

"His." The word comes out before you can stop it. "But I kind of am." You shudder at the confession.

Even if you didn't want Ben in your life, it didn't change anything. He was still your soulmate. Every part of him was molded and shaped for you just as every part of yourself was molded and shaped for him.

Ben was yours, but you didn't want to be his.

Hughie shakes his head. "He might be your soulmate but you don't belong to him. You're not his property-"

"I know that but-" Your voice breaks under the weight of everything crashing back down over you. "How can he be my soulmate?"

Hughie whispers your name, but you keep talking. It was coming out of you, everything that you had pushed down, all the emotions you'd had as a child, because you didn't want to keep going like everything was fine, it wasn't.

It never had been.

"Why is he my soulmate? How are we anything alike? He's-" A memory of Ben ripping someone in half comes across your mind and it makes you feel nauseous.

"I mean I-" The tears were coming fast again now, hot against your cheeks. "I waited all these years, thought that he'd never exist, thought that I was going fucking crazy staring at this damn date on my wrist and after years of feeling like a freak I find out that the man I've been waiting for is him? How is any of this fair?"

"It's going to be-"

"Stop saying that!" You shout, hands clenched at your sides. "It's not Hughie! It's not going to be okay and I'm so sick of hearing you say it. Not everyone can be happy all the time and have a perfect soulmate. Some of us are fucking stuck with a barbarian who doesn't give a shit about anyone else and kills people for sport!"

Hughie recoils with your words and you feel guilty.

You didn’t mean to hurt his feelings and you knew that your brother was here to help you, but you were just so frustrated and confused over everything that had happened today. You had no idea what was going on and what any of this meant. It all made you feel helpless and you hated feeling like that.

"He's-" You squeeze your eyes shut as if it'll make the thoughts stop, but it doesn't. "He's nothing like me! He's-" The image of a body laying at Ben's feet comes flashing through your head with him standing triumphantly over it. "He's a monster."

You hadn't said it out loud until right now only thought it. The word seems harsh, but you didn't know what else to call a person who killed and hurt other people with no remorse. In all the memories that you’d relived of your soulmate that was the ingredient missing.

Remorse.

Regret.

Guilt.

Shame.

All were things that would have made you reconsider going back to Ben if he'd felt those things after killing or hurting someone, but you didn't feel a shred of any when you watched him tear people apart with his bare hands.

You wonder if it had something to do with being tortured in the lab all those years, if being put through that changed him, but you’d seen memories of him acting just as terrible years before that happened.

"Someone like him isn't capable of feeling love! You can't do all the things he has with no remorse and still be capable of that." By now you were babbling, your voice barely recognizable from the sobs and shaky breaths you kept taking to stabilize yourself, but the truth was you were on the verge of a panic attack. Your eyes shift to your brother's concerned expression. "I'm sorry Hughie I-"

Hughie hugs you again, holding you so tight against him that it hurts. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know you’re frustrated. And I don't understand why he's your soulmate either. You have no idea what I’ve seen him do.“

“I don't know what to do.” You whisper into his shirt with a sniffle, still trying to calm the rapid breathing and beat of your heart, but nothing was working.

Because what the hell should you do?

You'd lived so long believing that you’d never meet your soulmate and even though the thought of being around him terrified you, there was another part of you that was begging you to go back to him.

The fantasy version of Ben manifests again, the one you'd imagined when you were a little girl dreaming of the day you'd get to meet the man who would complete you. Now those fantasies mocked you, every year you spent celebrating the birthday of your soulmate alone in the darkness of your apartment, every minute you spent trying to shrug off the taunts of the people in your hometown and your own parents when they saw the date on your wrist, and every second you spent hoping that it would happen to you while a little voice in your head told you it wasn't meant to be, that someone above cursed you to be alone forever.

All the hope you'd felt was a lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this and now that I’ve seen what he’s done I… I don't think I could ever love someone like him."

"No one is asking you to." Your brother says.

"I know that, but- He's still my soulmate."

I want to love him. A little voice deep inside said, it was the same one that was begging you to give Ben a chance, but you ignored it. You had seen the kind of man he was and you wanted no part of him in your life.

You take in a shaky breath and pull back from Hughie to examine the handprint shaped bruise on your wrist right over the golden birthdate that glows against your skin. "I'd rather be alone than be with him.”

The words hurt to admit to yourself, especially after all the years you’d spent wishing that you wouldn’t be alone and watching everyone else get the happy ending you so desperately wanted.

But none of that mattered now. Soulmate or not, everything about Ben scared you, and it didn't matter that the universe said he was yours, you knew in your heart that he couldn't be and that you'd never be able to love someone like him.

And miles away, on the other side of the bustling city that never sleeps, your soulmate sat on the end of his large bed in his empty apartment and looked down at his own wrist, tracing an ugly blue bruise that looked surprisingly like a handprint over your golden birthdate, and the first bruise he'd had in over eighty years.

A/N: Welp, I told y'all it was sad and oh my stars it broke my heart to do this to Ben. 😭 I'd like to say that the next chapter I have planned is less sad... but oh man I think it's worse 😅

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

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[hitlikehammers]

steddie ✨soulmarks✨ except that they spell out your soulmate’s last words 💔

(‘make him pay’ = epically lame iteration of this heartbreaking phenomenon)

From the minute he learned about soulmates as a kid, Steve knew not only that he wanted one—of course he did—but that he was absolutely going to get one. Didn’t matter that they were rare as hell, didn’t matter that every year fewer matches were reported: nope. Steve Harrington had a soulmate, and he was going to find them. When he eventually found out the tragedy of it all, the reason people were celebrating fewer instances of soulmates finding one another, Steve’s feelings on the matter didn’t change. At all. The words that appear to signal your match being the last words they’re meant to speak, before they die? Fuck that.

rating: m ♥️ tags: mid-s4 final battle, canon divergence, eddie says the soulmate words on steve’s skin that double as his last words, steve is having absolutely none of that, canon fix-it, romance, steve stays with eddie to prevent his untimely demise, dustin henderson: surprisingly good with molotov cocktails, happy ending ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day twenty five: “He is half of my soul, as the poets say.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Steve hears it, nods even and makes to step away—he hears it, but like, it takes a second to sink in.

But once it’s all sunk in, saturated in his cells, his bones?

“Change of plans,” he calls out, and gives a total of no shits if anyone has an objections.

“Henderson.”

Dustin perks up; he might have been playing tough about rolling his eyes over not being a hero but he’s predictable—he likes being important enough to get singled out.

“You think you can hit a target with a flaming bottle while a vine, or a tail, might be trying to strangle you?”

Steve wouldn’t have even had to look to know Dustin’s up for it—suspicion, confusion, those too of course but at least not outright resistance because, again.

Predictable.

He does look at Dustin anyway, though.

Mainly because he knows he won’t find such easy acceptance in any of the other faces gathered around, but like…

Here’s the thing.

From the minute he learned about soulmates as a kid, Steve knew not only that he wanted one—of course he did—but that he was absolutely going to get one. Didn’t matter that they were rare as hell, didn’t matter that every year fewer matches were reported: nope. Steve Harrington had a soulmate, and he was going to find them.

When he eventually found out the tragedy of it all, the reason people were celebrating fewer instances of soulmates finding one another, Steve’s feelings on the matter didn’t change. At all.

The words that appear to signal your match being the last words they’re meant to speak, before they die?

Fuck that.

They said you got the words the year it’d happen, first day. No sense of when, just before the year was over. So, like, it was super simple. Steve would just find them, protect them, make sure they say something else as soon as possible to negate the…the curse of it, save them, and then ride into the sunset. Easy.

And actually, he thought it was pretty fucking stupid that people really bought into the whole thing being, like, a guaranteed recipe for heartbreak. If even Steve could figure out how to navigate the rules that easily.

By high school, he learns that people have tried—which is reassuring, that everyone through all the ages wasn’t that stupid or unimaginative, or so easily resigned to the worst—and they’d failed.

All of them, apparently.

Allegedly.

That part is more of a bummer. But Steve Harrington has known he’d find his soulmate his entire life. And he will. So while now he knows he’s up against almost impossible odds, if the stories are to be believed?

He spends high school practicing. Knowing none of these girls are his forever but learning the long way what works and what doesn’t, how to treat someone with care, how to please someone without question. He gets his reputation: Casanova, but not for keeps. He’s good with that.

By the time the Upside Down had entered his world, it was both the worst thing, and the bestthing. Because alternate dimensions were impossible.

Yet here they were.

And what else had he always been told was impossible?

So it could—would—be possible, too.

Steve wasn’t sure he realized how thin of a thread his hope had been hanging on until it rebuilds in chainlinks the more he sees of the impossible, the more he knows again with all of him that when the time comes, he’ll save them.

Make Him Pay was a weird mark to find on his skin in the early hours of 1986, but it meant that he was right. He had a soulmate.

And he had a whole year to find them. And save them. And ask if they’d like a forever, too.

And how fucking lucky, that it barely takes two months.

Impending apocalypse aside, of course. But those were just details. Practically routine, at this point.

So, again: it takes a couple seconds to sink in. For it to make sense alongside the fluttery feeling he’s been having off and on from the base of his throat to the pit of his stomach, since probably somewhere around the boathouse. He almost gets a full step away, even.

But he doesn’t.

Because this, this right here?

This is what Steve Harrington has been preparing for his whole goddamn life.

Robin—the only other person in the world who knows what’s scrawled on his skin—was too far to hear for herself but he taps the inside of his elbow where the words are branded when she looks at him, flooded with questions but her eyes go wide, she picks it up fast as the answer to basically all of them, then turns to Eddie and they stare at each other, exchanging unspoken confirmations for more wonderings until Robin squares her shoulders, nods at Steve more than once so he knows she’s not just committed to figuring this out with him, but that she supports him, maybe even approves of these cards he’s been dealt to save the beautiful curly haired weirdo standing between them.

Fuck, but he loves her. So much.

“He’s soft on you, Henderson,” she cuts in, takes the reins; “convince me. You any better than you were last summer with squeezing out of tight spots? Particularly, you know,” she flicks her eyes meaningfully over to the angry red lines on Steve’s neck; “those involving psychic sorta-vines, or bat-tails trying to hang you?”

“I…” Dustin still looks a little thrown by the team shakeup but he’s a smart fucking kid, and a quick study when he wants to be: “hypothetically?” He chews on his lip, strokes his chin like he’s putting in real thought, here. “Like, with my cleidocranial dysplasia—”

“Your shoulder blade thing?” Nancy pipes up, a little incredulous, and Steve almost feels for her; she hasn’t spent enough time with Dustin to not only know that she’s wrong, but to know how he reacts when people whose intelligence he respected at least a little bit are the ones who are wrong.

“Collarbone,” he eyes her ruthlessly, wholly unimpressed, then turns back to Robin alone; “but, might be able to wiggle out better?”

Robin nods, considering-like, but Steve can see she’s trying not to laugh a little at how Nancy’s now incredulously gaping at them.

“And how’s your aim?” she asks, a little doubtfully—Dustin doesn’t exactly strike…anyone on-sight as being particularly good at throwing shit and making sure it hits a target.

As in, an intended target.

“I smoke everyone at Front Line,” Dustin announces with absolute confidence before twin snorts come from Steve and Eddie in near-tandem, and he glares hard but admits: “except Max.”

“Oh my god, are we seriously,” Nancy can only be heard if you’re listening close and know what her under-the-breath-disbelief sounds like, not just that they’re having this conversation but that they’re having it, as she says, seriously. And Steve would have missed the sound of it too, save that try as had might have in the most awkward days following the implosion of…everything, with them—he hadn’t forgotten.

But honestly, kinda just…screw her. He won’t pretend it’s not a little fucked that they’re playing a life-or-death battle like it’s picking teams in gym class, but it’s only flippant on the surface. Steve would never, would never trust Dustin where he really didn’t think he could handle himself—maybe it’s not ideal, but he does trust the kid, much as he wishes he could keep him from the frontlines, protect him and let him be exposed to the worst of the horrors as little as possible; but Steve also wouldn’t ever risk Robin, or hell, even Nancy, to himself being as distracted as he’d be not knowing that Eddie was safe.

None of it’s ideal. But what about anything with this monster-mash-realm shit ever has been?

And it’s not like Nancy knows that Steve even has a soulmate. She definitely doesn’t know that he’s just found said soulmate, on his way to the gallows on a coin-toss—and sure, yeah, they all are. But there…it’s just…

There was nothing in this dimension or any other that was tearing Steve away from him, and making damn fucking sure he got to ask that question.

Would he also be interested, as in—would he, too, like a…like a forever.

With Steve.

“Also very much top-three at skee-ball,” Dustin’s adding to his battle-resume; “including Max, there.”

Robin pretends to consider; she looks to Steve—reassures him. She understands, and believes they can do this. That they’ll all be okay. He even thinks—beyond wishful thinking—that her bad feelings about all of this aren’t in play right now in this shakeup. He…breathes a little easier.

“You’re with us,” Robin snaps her fingers and waves Dustin over to her and Nancy; “get ready to light the fucker up.”

“Dustin,” Steve calls the kid back before he can scramble away too quick—way too enthusiastically. He turns, still confused about the change at large but in the moment confused why Steve needs him back but he’s gotta say it, one more time:

“Don’t be a hero,” he says, gripping Dustin’s shoulders and shaking him just a little, squeezing tight before he leans in, stares eye to eye before he pulls the most important card he’s got:

“You die, I die.”

He holds Dustin’s gaze until the kid seems to get that Steve’s as serious as Dustin’s ever been and likely more; until he nods, slow and deliberate and says solemn, like a oath form his dweeb books:

“Okay.”

Then, just as he makes to let go, Dustin’s clamping a hand over one of Steve’s on his shoulder and narrowing his eyes:

“Same goes for you, remember that,” he scolds in advance, because of course he does; “plus, on top of that,” he squeezes Steve’s hand as he uses his free one to shake a pointed finger at him:

“If you told us nothing cute, you can’t change the rules now that you’re staying behind.”

Steve wants to laugh. Wants to bend the rules of the universe so none of them have to separate from each other. But…he trusts the others. And he trusts Robin to understand that he’s not just staying with his soulmate, he’s staying because the die was cast to fight for him, against the end for him, and Eddie’s green to this bullshit where they’re all seasoned vets—he trusts her to take care of herself as he’d take care of her, as half his brain cells and the better half at that, and to make sure the rest of them are as safe as they can be, too.

“Noted,” is all he ends up saying with as reassuring a grin as he manage before giving Dustin a shove toward Rob and Nance that definitely isn’t halfway just so he can keep hold of him a millisecond longer. “Get going,” and he tells himself it’ll be okay; doesn’t know if the toothy grin and the snarky double thumbs-up he gets helps or makes it harder to swallow.

He forces himself to toss a salute toward Robin and turn the fuck away before he ruins his own fucking plan of action by demanding that they all find a way to stick together, restructure from the ground up but really fucking quick—

He forces himself to turn back.

To Eddie. Who is staring at him, a little gape-mouthed. A little fast-blinking.

“The fuck was that?”

Which, okay. Okay, that…that is very fair.

But Steve needs a second. He needs a second to soak in the words, from Eddie’s mouth; to pretend to itch near his elbow to see if the words had changed: no.

No, they’re still the same, and he…right. The words were said. His soulmate’s last words had been said, and now his soulmate has said more words.

Right. He’d managed this much—the hardest part, and he had thought it’d unclench the vise in his chest a little more than this but: fine. Fine, he’s over the biggest hurdle. Keeping Eddie safe is in hishands, now, like he always planned—how could you not save your soulmate—and now he just, he…

He just has to make sure Eddie doesn’t fucking say them again before this is over, and then maybe they’d have a chance.

Maybe…maybe they could even have a forever.

He can fucking do this. He was goddamn born to do this.

Steve takes a deep breath and meets Eddie’s questioning gaze.

The fuck was that, he’d asked. Ha.

“You want the heavy version now, or after?”

Eddie narrows those dangerous fucking doe eyes at him, looks him up and down: sees him.

Steve kinda wants to give in to the urge to shiver for the way that gaze sweeps down him across maybe twenty whole heartbeats and Steve feels more deeply known than he thinks he’s felt…ever. Like this.

Eddie heaves a very deep breath and concedes:

“Guess ���after’ is fine, given we appear to be on a time crunch.”

That’s the right answer—and it’s enough to spur Steve into immediate motion.

He’s already grabbed Eddie by the frayed edge of his vest and is dragging him into the trailer where he lets go, pauses, zips Eddie’s jacket up all the way to the chin, then starts making his checks.

“The hell are you doing?”

Eddie sounds genuinely baffled, more than anything. It would sound adorable in any other moment.

(Goddamnit, but it still sounds adorable, now.)

“You’ve lived in a trailer,” Steve says as he jumps from one side of the very trailer they happen to be in—one that maybe Eddie used to live in, or maybe just a shell, an echo, a carbon copy—fuck if Steve understands what the Upside Down really is on that level;

“But I used to dream of buying an RV,” he tries to underscore the was of it, the used to: the very intentional past tense.

What he wants now is…a future. Almost any future. With this man. With his soulmate.

Eddie.

What he wants is for Eddie, to want to be his Eddie.

And to want Steve, to be Eddie’s Steve.

“They’re not entirely different, but,” Steve pulls furniture out to aid his manic quest, hears Eddie’s voice stop and start around words, mostly only settle around befuddled noises and squeaks; “one thing all the magazines said to watch for is—”

And then he sees it. Grins like he found the…holy-cup, thingy. World Cup?

The really important thingy.

“The ventilation.”

He points and turns to Eddie with what has to look like the grin of an absolutely crazy person but he doesn’t care one fucking bit.

He is somehow more relieved than he thinks is probably necessary to have found them, but like:

“The vents are often overlooked.”

All the RV magazine made comments about ventilation somewhere. He even read about improperly cleaned vents causing a fire, once.

But now he can cover all the bases. Now, he can protect Eddie. Now he has a fucking shot.

But first:

“We fortify this thing like Fort fucking Knox.”

Eddie takes him to where his uncle keeps most of their home improvement type supplies, which turns out to be under the couch and in various random places in the kitchen. He carries an arm full of tape and scissors, hammers and nails over toward the vents before going back for trip number two.

Eddie’s pulling another roll of duct tape out of another mystery drawer in the kitchen—Steve would ask what they needed so much of it for in ‘83 but it’s working for them, so he keeps his mouth shut—for them to block all possible creases and crevices, top to fucking bottom.

Which is exactly what Steve makes damn fucking sure they do.

“Do you really have to play, like, live? Outside, I mean,” Steve asks from focusing on his tape-job, before he starts boarding up the last possible point of entry, as Eddie starts hooking up the audio for the, y’know, the original diversion part of the plan; “or can you rig it to play like a tape, or something,” he’s grasping at straws, pulling too violently at the tape as he sticks another layer on, maybe the fourth by now and it still feels inadequate; “or can you play from in here—”

“Steve.”

He doesn’t expect Eddie so close, close enough for him to grab Steve’s elbows and still them.

To move his hold down Steve’s forearms. Like…deliberately.

“Let me lure them from out there, at least to make sure they’re taking the bait,” Eddie says, those eyes like the ocean in the dark, near-black and fathomless, but also safe and true and right; “and then we can swap a tape in, we can set that up now real fast, so it’s a quick-change?”

Steve blinks, stares down at Eddie’s hands on his, unexpected but right in a way Steve hadn’t even thought to anticipate, for if he ultimately found that soulmate he was after.

“I need you to stay safe. Please.”

The words catch in Steve’s throat, entirely unplanned, and rip rough over gravel on the way out as he looks up, then, and holds Eddie’s gaze with a level of intent he wasn’t sure he had in him before this very moment:

“Promise me.”

And there’s a second where Steve thinks that’s too much, that it goes too far—

“I swear, Steve,” Eddie barely breathes, but those depthless eyes almost seem now to glow: “I don’t understand, but I promise.”

And they let go of one another, and get back to work but…it all feels more vital now. More charged and absolute.

So when Eddie picks up his guitar, fiddles a little and checks the amps, ensures that this’ll shatter eardrums like it’s meant to—Steve pulls him by the collar, and re-zips every layer on him straight to the top.

“No being cute,” Steve reiterates, but even firmer this time; “no trying to be a hero.”

“Told you that wasn’t my area of expertise,” Eddie smirks enough to hollow a dimple.

“Fuck off,” Steve shoves at him, but not toward the door; not yet; “but you’re already plenty cute, so,” he reaches and straightens Eddie’s battle gear one last time as he takes a breath, clears his throat:

“Stick to the plan.”

It must feel as real in this moment to Eddie as it does to Steve, as final and as much of a risk as anything could ever be—or maybe Steve hadn’t cleared the heart in his throat, seizing up a riot, well enough to hide because Eddie stills, goes very suddenly very deathly pale, and blinks too fast to a long stretch of seconds before he’s the one clearing his throat, stumbling over words at a pitch at least an octave too high:

“Which was?” he asks, shaky, like he’sgrasping at straws now, or else: maybe just grasping.

“Umm,” “Eddie fumbles, and Steve can see the pulse heavy in this neck when he swallows; “just to remind me?”

Steve…Steve always knew whoever his soulmate was, he would love them. It’s just how he’s built. But like, soulmate or not, in this moment?

Steve thinks he’ll walk out of this with his heart on a fucking platter for this man, words on his arm or not.

He moves on instinct, and pulls Eddie into a tight hug, the bracing type to steady him as he whispers close to his ear, maybe too intimate by anyone else’s standards, but honestly?

Everyone else can go fuck thensleves.

“Play until they’re maybe…two minutes out,” Steve bullet-points the plan as clear as he can, wills himself not to be distracted by how Eddie seems to shake with the force of his own pulse. “Then get your ass back in here. We lock down and start the tape.”

He dares to squeeze Eddie close, so tight, just once, before moving his hands to Eddie’s shoulders and searching his eyes for questions—and yeah, also maybe just looking at those eyes.

“Roger that,” Eddie exhales so soft, and swallows hard, grabs for one of Steve’s hands on his shoulder still and squeezes it tight kinda out of nowhere, then they moving.

Steve takes another deep breath to steady himself and, after checking every nook and crack and cranny, and starts getting the tape and nails and boards set up to quick-fire seal the door once Eddie’s safe inside.

He’s freaking out, he’s not gonna sugarcoat or downplay it: but the way his heart’s pounding is kinda split for cause because…even though he knows every note his soulmate plays from the goddamn roof is meant to coax the apocalypse to turn their way—fuck, but Eddie’s good with that fucking guitar.

Steve doesn’t have to be into the genre to appreciate that it’s hot and yeah, okay—there’s no more he can do until Eddie’s inside so maybe he…takes a peek.

Oh yeah. Fucking hot.

He makes himself turn, check the sky: the bats are taking the bait.

They’re close e-fucking-nough.

“Eddie!” he yells it but it’s not enough over the amps so he guesses where a break will come and whistles between his fingers, startling Eddie enough to nearly drop his guitar.

“Inside! Now!” he snaps his fingers as Eddie scrambles down and into the trailer, setting his instrument aside as Steve flips the tape to play, more muted but still ear-splitting enough to take over before he starts taping the door once, twice, cross-cross, a third time—then he grabs for the nails and the panels they’d ripped from anywhere they served a purpose that wasn’t fucking structural, and starts hammering them in, decides another layer of duct tape can’t hurt, then, well, there’s more wood so, again, can’t be too careful—

He’s not expecting the hand reaching out to stop him.

“This the heavier version, then?”

Steve turns toward the rough, shaky words, means to tell Eddie to just wait, let him finish this, they don’t have time, but—

The arm Eddie’s grabbed…his sleeve has runched up. To show the words near his elbow. In…

The words come in your soulmate’s handwriting, right, so Eddie would…would recognize that, even if he forgot saying…

“I,” Steve thinks his mouth moves more than it makes actual noise, and this time his heart pounding isn’t split for its reason in any possible way, no, it’s all tangled up: terror and want and nerves and resolve all mixed together. He tries to read anything from Eddie’s face, from the way he stares at Steve with those wide, wide eyes.

“Yeah?” Steve kinda chokes around it a little—maybe he’s hoping something telling, something readable will shift in Eddie’s expression: no dice. Just staring, and breathing a little heavy, and the chittering of the bats getting ever-closer outside.

Steve breathes out, nails the last panel in and straightens up, looks Eddie straight in those big gorgeous eyes that he desperately wants the chance to drown in later, when this is over.

He really hopes being honest right now doesn’t cost him a chance at later.

“Yeah.”

And in what feels like the last fucking second left before Steve’s heart fucking rips through his skin, Eddie’s face flickers and gives…everything away.

He fucking glows.

“Good,” and Eddie’s breathless with something other than the fear of dying, despite the circumstances, despite the incoming flood of creatures out for their blood; he’s not wholly absent of nerves as he rolls up his own sleeve, but he’s vibrating almost, more than he’s shaking, and it comes through in the words that spill forth in a rush:

“Because this one’s mine.”

And there it is, thrust into Steve’s eyeline, in Steve’s very familiar scrawl:

stick to the plan

He…he remembers saying that. And he remembers Eddie paling so fast Steve would have been scared if they weren’t awaiting a fight for their lives but…

Maybe that hadn’t been it at all.

“Seriously?”

It comes out of Steve breathier than he wants, or expects because…he guesses he never really processed, in all the years and in all the yearning, the planning, the wanting, the…the all of it.

He didn’t really process the soulmate he’d find, finding him back.

“Couldn’t let you stop talking there,” Eddie says, a little small, almost shy; “whether you’d want me or not, I couldn’t—”

And Steve, who had wondered just how bad the nerves were for Eddie to have forgotten the pretty straight forward plan they’d both been working on pretty single-mindedly since they’d split from Dustin and the girls, but now, now he—

The bats will be here in a fucking second.

But fuck it, Steve leans in.

And fuck but Eddie meets him halfway without a second’s hesitation.

Steve maybe hears the bats start to hit the trailer; might be his heartbeat in his ears. He knows he hears Eddie moan and tease Steve’s lips, hears that moan go deeper when Steve’s mouth opens and their tongues find each other and, well.

There’s nothing left for them to do, really. They’ve played their role—and Steve hadn’t battened down the hatches on this place for nothing, after all.

This is a hell of a lot better way to wait out their end of things, by a fucking long shot, regardless—and Jesus.

Steve couldn’t ever have expected Eddie to taste this sweet.

♥️🦇🦇♥️

✨also on ao3

For @stuftzombie (to whom I apologise 1) for completely misreading your prompt and writing this first, and then going back and reading it RIGHT—so like, please tell me if you want a second CORRECT fill now that I’m back online to post one, I can absolutely write the original prompt no problem—I feel both very stupid and also TERRIBLE for somehow making THIS THE PROMPT, and then 2) I also apologise PROFUSELY for the EGREGIOUS delay—I had a folder of prompts that I saved twice, but didn’t realise was a separate file 🫠) who requested SOULMATE AU at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @eternal-sunflowers @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[ros3mari3]

Inked in Destiny

Bucky Barnes x soulmate!Reader

The first time you saw the tattoo on your wrist, you were seven years old. Delicate vines curled over your skin, inked in deep black, twisting gracefully around your arm. It was beautiful, intricate, and entirely mysterious.

You learned to hide it. Others had words that spoke of love and promises; yours was an enigma, a pattern that felt like a secret before you even knew who it belonged to. So you kept it covered, concealing it beneath bracelets and long sleeves, unwilling to face what it might mean. Over time, it became second nature to hide it, to pretend it wasn’t there.

Years passed, and the mystery of the ink faded into the background of your life. Until the war came, and the world tilted on its axis.

James Buchanan Barnes was a name whispered like legend, a man thought lost to time and violence. When you joined the Avengers, you never expected to meet him. And you certainly never expected the way your pulse would stutter the moment his gaze locked onto yours.

From the beginning, there was something about Bucky—something familiar, yet completely foreign. He was reserved, his voice always edged with reluctance, his eyes shadowed with the weight of things unspoken. You caught glimpses of warmth, of a man buried beneath the pain, but he always pulled away before you could see too much.

And then, one day, everything changed.

You had been sparring, caught up in the fluid rhythm of movement, when your sleeve rode up—just slightly. Just enough.

Bucky’s entire body went rigid. His breath hitched, and for the first time since you met him, there was something in his eyes other than guarded restraint—something raw, something like fear.

“What is that?” His voice was tight, laced with something unreadable.

Your stomach twisted. You knew what he was looking at. But still, instinct kicked in, and you yanked your sleeve down. “Nothing.”

His gaze didn’t waver. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, and you took one back.

“You always wear long sleeves,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. “Even in the summer.”

You swallowed hard. “So do you,” You shot back.

He hesitated, fingers twitching at his side, then—without another word—turned on his heel and walked away.

The abruptness of his exit left you reeling. You stood frozen, your mind racing, watching his retreating form as he disappeared down the hall. The air between you felt charged, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in on your chest.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The image of his expression—the fleeting fear, the wariness—played on repeat in your mind. And so, against your better judgment, you found yourself outside his door.

You knocked once. No answer.

Twice. Silence.

On the third knock, the door swung open, revealing Bucky standing there, his jaw clenched tight. His room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion lining his features.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice hoarse.

“You ran,” you shot back. “You saw my tattoo and just—left.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked like he might shut the door in your face. But instead, he exhaled sharply, stepping aside to let you in.

The air in the room was thick with tension as you stood in front of him, your arms crossed. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing the same delicate, curling vines twining over his forearm. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I knew,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Your breath caught. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want me for you.”

Your heart ached at the weight behind his words. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, tracing a finger over the ink on his skin. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

Bucky flinched under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze searched yours, filled with hesitation, with conflict. “I’m dangerous,” he whispered. “You deserve better.”

You shook your head. “I deserve my soulmate.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with emotions neither of you were ready to name. But something shifted then—something fragile, something real.

And for the first time, Bucky didn’t step away.

[queerteapie]

The Thread Between Us (18+)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal/Reader

Rating: Mature

Challenge: Agatha All Along Week, Day 5: Soulmates/Soulmarks (@agathaallalongweek)

Summary: You arrive at the house expecting a temporary apprenticeship - lessons in magic from two of the most formidable witches of the century. What you don’t expect is the flicker of your soulmark, reacting to their presence like it’s been waiting. Agatha and Rio are already bound to one another, their connection legendary and unshakable. But when your mark begins to glow for both of them, everything changes.

Agatha resists. Rio leans in.

And you stand between them - drawn in by fate, magic, and a bond neither of them knew was still incomplete.

The house knows before any of you do. The thread was always meant to pull three.

Tags: 18+, NSFW, soulmarks, soulmates, magical bonding, magic, triad, mutual pining, established relationship

AAA Week Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | Ao3

The Thread Between Us

The house sits at the end of a quiet street, all pointed roofs and ivy-covered stone, like it’s been plucked out of a different century and dropped here just for you. There’s something strange about the air around it - shimmering faintly, like heat off asphalt. But it’s cool out. Still. Watchful.

You tighten your grip on the suitcase handle. The letter in your coat pocket feels heavier than paper should. You read it too many times on the train, fingers tracing the elegant signature at the bottom. Rio Vidal. You don’t know what made her choose you, but when a witch like her says you’re worth teaching, you don’t say no.

The front door creaks open before you can even reach the steps.

Rio leans against the frame like she’s been waiting there all morning. She’s dressed down - loose sweater, soft jeans, bare feet - but she wears her confidence like armor. Her smile is warm, crooked at one corner. Lazy, but sharp.

“You made it,” she says, eyes dragging over you slowly. “Cute coat.”

Your throat feels dry. “Thanks.”

You barely register the sound of footsteps behind her before the temperature shifts again - cooler, charged.

Agatha Harkness steps into the doorway like she owns not just the house, but the air inside it. Her eyes sweep over you, unblinking, clinical. Beautiful, in a terrifying, too-much kind of way. She doesn’t speak at first, just tips her head and studies you like a spell she hasn’t decided whether to cast or break.

“She’s younger than I expected,” she murmurs to Rio, but her eyes never leave yours.

“Barely,” Rio replies. “And powerful.”

Agatha hums. It’s not approval. It’s...consideration. Then she turns and walks back inside, leaving the door open in her wake.

“She does that,” Rio says, like it’s normal. “Don’t take it personal. She just doesn’t trust easily.”

You nod and step forward. The moment you cross the threshold, it’s like walking through a veil. The air thickens around your skin - warm, tingling, intimate. The wards. You can feel them slip beneath your clothes like unseen fingers. For a second, something flickers just beneath your skin. A spark. You tell yourself it’s nerves.

Inside, the house smells like herbs and old wood and smoke. Magic hangs in the corners like cobwebs - buzzing faintly, drawn to you. A candle on the entry table bends toward you as you pass, its flame dancing in your direction.

Rio’s smile falters for just a second. “Interesting,” she says.

You turn to her. “What?”

She studies you, like she’s seeing something new. “You feel...familiar.”

And somewhere deeper in the house, you swear you hear a teacup crack.

Rio picks up your suitcase before you can protest and nods for you to follow her.

“You’ll be on the second floor,” she says, already halfway up the stairs. “Closer to me. Agatha’s in the attic suite - more space for all her…weird shit.”

You glance at the walls as you climb. Every inch is covered: framed spellwork, enchanted botanical prints, crystals hovering in glass domes. The house feels alive. It likes you. That much is clear.

“Don’t touch the obsidian mirror,” Rio adds over her shoulder. “Or the cat skull in the study. And definitely not the crystal ball in Agatha’s room unless you want her to actually bite you.”

“Bite?” you echo, breath catching.

She glances back and grins. “Kidding.”

You’re not convinced.

At the top of the stairs, she nudges open a door with her hip. “Here you go. Home sweet haven.”

The room is bigger than you expected. A slanted ceiling, big bay window, and a bed that looks like it’s seen a hundred naps and even more dreams. There's a desk already stocked with charmed ink and blank grimoires. A small armoire hums with a protective spell. The air smells faintly of cedar and moonflower.

“It’s warded for privacy. Only you, or someone you invite, can cross the threshold. Unless Agatha decides to override it, which she can, but she won’t unless you piss her off.”

“Reassuring,” you murmur, stepping inside.

Rio follows anyway, ignoring the implied barrier. She sets your suitcase down gently, then pauses, eyes roaming the room.

“You feel it too, right?” she asks, softly now. “The way the house hums when you walk through it. The way it…responds.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. It’s like it knows me.”

Rio doesn’t move for a moment. She just watches you. Then her voice dips low.

“I think Agatha noticed it, too. She won’t say anything yet. She’s stubborn that way.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, heart thudding.

“What does it mean?” you ask.

Rio tilts her head, fingers tapping lightly on the windowsill. “I don’t know. But it’s rare. The last time this house reacted like that was when Agatha moved in.”

She pushes away from the wall and straightens. “Come on. I’ll show you the garden before she catches me alone with you and assumes the worst.”

You blink. “The worst?”

Rio gives you a look - equal parts mischief and warning. “She’s protective.”

Then she opens the door and steps back out into the hall, waiting for you.

You follow Rio out the back of the house, through a side door layered with protective sigils. The moment you step into the garden, the air cools - not cold, just crisp, like dusk in early autumn. Moonlight catches on dewy leaves, and the plants here aren’t just decorative. You can feel them breathing.

“This is her sanctuary,” Rio says, voice low as you step onto the cobbled path. “Every herb, every warded bloom - it’s all hand-grown. Half the stuff out here is sentient.”

You pass a pale blue foxglove that leans subtly toward you. A vine with silvered leaves curls slightly at your ankle, brushing your skin.

“They like you,” Rio says, watching.

You don’t look at her. “You keep saying that like it’s strange.”

“It is,” she says. “They’re picky.”

You pause at a circle of black stones surrounding a thorny bush with blood-red flowers. The petals shimmer slightly, as if dusted with ash.

“What’s this one?”

“Heartroot.” Rio steps closer behind you. “Only blooms in the presence of soul magic. Agatha swears it’s dead, but…” Her voice trails off. “You’re standing in its ring.”

You glance down. Sure enough, the flowers have begun to unfurl - slowly, but unmistakably.

Rio doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Then she reaches out - tentatively - and brushes her fingers against your sleeve. Just a light touch. But your pulse jumps like she’s touched skin.

“Do you feel that?” she asks.

You nod, barely breathing. “It’s like the air shifted.”

“No,” she says, stepping closer. “You shifted.”

Her hand moves from your sleeve to your wrist. Just a graze. Your skin tingles under her fingers, and for a split second, something under your skin flares - heat, gold, a whisper of something ancient.

You gasp.

“Shit-sorry,” Rio breathes, letting go. “That wasn’t-”

“It’s okay,” you manage. “I-what was that?”

But before Rio can answer, a sharp voice cuts across the garden.

“Rio.”

You both turn.

Agatha stands at the edge of the path, one brow arched, arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed in black again, her hair pinned back with a twist of silver that gleams like a blade.

“I thought I said not to bring guests near the Heartroot alone.”

“She’s not a guest,” Rio says, steady but softer now. “She’s part of the house.”

Agatha’s eyes flick to you, lingering on your wrist - just where Rio touched you. You can’t be sure, but for a moment, her expression fractures. Not with anger. With something else. Something close to fear.

Then it’s gone.

“Come inside,” Agatha says coldly. “It’s getting late.”

She turns without waiting, her long coat trailing behind her like smoke.

Rio sighs. “Well. That went great.”

You don’t move.

“She’s scared,” you say.

Rio looks at you. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “And that should scare you, too.”

But then she smiles - just enough to make you feel warm again.

“Come on, kid. Let’s give her something to panic about.”

**********

The house creaks at night. Not in a haunted way, but in a living, breathing way - like it exhales in the dark, stretches through the walls, shifts in its old bones.

You can't sleep.

The mattress is soft, the room warm. But something itches just beneath your skin. A heat, a pull. So you slip quietly from your bed, careful not to wake the wards. The floor is cool under your soles as you step into the hallway, dimly lit by flickering sconces that burn with ghostlight.

You don’t expect to find Rio there, leaning against the wall in her pajama pants and a loose tank top, hair mussed from sleep, one hand cradling a chipped mug of something that smells like mint and clove.

Her eyes land on you immediately.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks.

You shake your head. “You either?”

She shrugs, sipping from her mug. “I don’t sleep much. Mind won’t shut up.”

She doesn’t ask why you’re out here. Just tilts her head toward the far end of the hall and starts walking, expecting you to follow.

You do.

She leads you to a little alcove with a tall window and a built-in bench. You both sit, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not touching.

Rio glances sideways at you. “The house feels louder tonight.”

“Louder?” you echo.

“Yeah. Like it’s...talking. Or listening. I don’t know. Sometimes it does that before a shift.”

You lean back against the wall and let your eyes drift shut for a second. The magic in the house is humming louder than usual. And under your skin, something is stirring.

“Can I see it?” Rio asks suddenly.

You open your eyes. “See what?”

“The mark. If you have one.”

You tense. “You think I do?”

Rio’s gaze softens. “I know you do. I just don’t think you’ve noticed it yet.”

Your pulse kicks.

After a moment, you pull up the sleeve of your left arm - nothing. Then your right.

There, just at the inside of your wrist, faint and flickering in the candlelight like a half-healed burn -  a mark you’ve never seen before. Circular, woven lines like intertwined threads, pulsing gently with a glow that almost disappears the moment you notice it.

Rio leans in.

Her breath brushes your skin as she studies it. Her fingers hover but don’t touch.

“Shit,” she whispers. “It’s active.”

You swallow. “What does that mean?”

Rio’s voice drops low. “It means someone near you bears the match.”

You don’t ask who. You're not sure you want to know. Not yet.

You just sit there, close enough to touch, heart pounding. The magic hums louder in your ears.

Rio draws back slowly, something unreadable in her eyes.

“We should get some sleep,” she says, but neither of you move.

**********

You sleep, eventually.

And when you do, you fall.

Not through space - but into something soft and golden, like memories you’ve never had.

You’re standing in a circle of stone, the sky pulsing violet overhead. There’s firelight dancing in the corners of your vision. A voice - familiar, low, laughing - calls your name.

You turn.

She’s there.

Agatha.

Her face is different - sharper, younger, but it’s her. She’s dressed in ancient robes, hair unbound and wild, power practically glowing in her veins. Her soulmark is visible, curling up the side of her throat like a brand. The same design that flickered on your wrist.

She steps toward you, her smile wicked and soft all at once.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” she says.

And then she kisses you - fierce, desperate, like it’s been lifetimes.

The moment her lips touch yours, your soulmark flares. Gold, then violet, then white-hot. You cry out-

-and jolt awake.

Breathless. Sweating. The mark on your wrist still glowing faintly in the dark.

And across the hall, behind her own locked door, Agatha wakes up too - eyes wide, heart racing, fingers pressed against her throat where her own mark burns to life.

**********

The scent of coffee pulls you downstairs. Spiced, rich, comforting. There’s a hush to the house - like it’s holding its breath.

You follow the smell to the kitchen.

Agatha is already there.

She stands by the stove, dressed in black slacks and a charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled, collar open just enough to make you ache a little. Her hair is twisted into a loose knot, and she’s barefoot, of all things, elegant and wild in the same breath.

She doesn’t look at you when you enter. Just gestures vaguely toward the counter.

“Coffee’s there. Mug’s warm.”

You pour one, hands trembling slightly. The mark on your wrist is still faintly visible, like it refuses to vanish fully now. You swear you can feel her mark pulsing too, across the room.

Rio wanders in next, sleep-rumpled and yawning. She brushes past you and steals a sip from your mug before grabbing her own.

“Morning,” she mumbles, squinting. “Did anyone else dream of past lives and soul-burning kisses, or just me?”

Agatha shoots her a look sharp enough to slice air.

You choke slightly on your coffee.

Rio raises a brow. “That’s a yes.”

You sit at the table in tense silence, the three of you. Toast appears on a plate. Jam materializes in a jar. A spoon stirs itself in someone’s cup. The magic is on edge - excited, restless, watching.

You meet Agatha’s eyes once. It’s only a second - but it lands like a strike. There’s recognition there. And something she’s trying very, very hard to bury.

“I need to check the perimeter wards,” she says, voice tight, and disappears out the back door before either of you can respond.

Rio watches her go, then turns to you slowly. “You dreamed of her, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

**********

Later that day, you find her in her study.

The door creaks as you push it open - risky, but something inside needs to see her.

Agatha’s seated at her desk, surrounded by tomes older than countries. She doesn’t look up.

“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” she says coolly.

You stay anyway.

“Last night,” you say, voice quiet. “That dream-”

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp. “Don’t say it out loud. It’ll make it more real.”

You step closer. “It was real.”

Her hand clenches around the quill she’s holding. Ink spills across the page in a jagged stroke.

Slowly, she lifts her gaze. Her eyes are darker than usual. Shadowed. Afraid.

“I’ve waited a long time to not believe in soulmarks,” she says. “And now you show up with mine burned onto your skin.”

“Is it so bad?” you ask. “That we might be...tied?”

She laughs once. Bitter. “You don’t know what you’re asking. What it means to be bound to someone like me.”

“I saw you,” you say. “In the dream. You called me back.”

Her breath hitches.

You take one more step. Close enough to touch. “I’m not afraid of you, Agatha.”

She stands suddenly - fast, like she’s going to run. But she doesn’t. She just stares at you like she’s drowning.

Then - slowly - she reaches out, fingers grazing the edge of your wrist.

The mark glows.

So does hers.

“Gods help me,” she murmurs, and then she kisses you.

Not like the dream.

This time, it’s real.

Hot. Fierce. Terrified.

And full of the magic that’s always been meant for the two of you.

Agatha's lips are still on yours when the door creaks again.

You don’t hear it at first - not over the rush of blood in your ears, the heat of her mouth, the shiver of your soulmark singing against your skin.

But Agatha hears.

She breaks the kiss like it burns her, pulling back so suddenly it leaves you breathless. Her eyes are wide, raw - panic just behind them.

“Shit,” she whispers, and turns.

Too late.

Rio stands in the doorway.

Her expression doesn’t give much away. She’s holding a book in one hand, something casual and worn, but her eyes are locked on the two of you. On the space between you. On Agatha’s trembling hands and your swollen lips.

She leans her shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well,” she says softly. “This got interesting.”

Agatha moves first, straightening like she’s about to deflect or deny, but Rio lifts a hand.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. I felt it.”

“You felt-?” you start to ask, confused, but Rio’s gaze slides to you, and something in it crackles.

“I dreamed of you too,” she says.

Your heart stutters.

“It wasn’t the same as hers,” she adds, nodding toward Agatha, “but the mark lit up. I saw it. I felt the bond pull, and it wasn’t just toward her.”

Agatha is frozen. Her breath shallow.

“You knew,” Rio says to her. Not accusing, but not kind, either. “Didn’t you?”

“I suspected,” Agatha admits, voice thin. “I didn’t want it to be true.”

Rio laughs under her breath, disbelieving. “Of course not. Because that would mean letting anyone in.”

You look between them, a strange knot growing in your chest. “What does this mean? If it’s not just between me and her - if it’s all three of us?”

Rio steps forward, slowly. Her eyes on you now.

“It means we’re a triad,” she says simply. “A soulmark triangle. Rare. Dangerous. And...intense.”

She stops right in front of you. Close enough to touch, but doesn’t - not yet.

Agatha hasn’t moved from behind her desk. She looks like she’s bracing for impact. But her eyes are on the two of you now, and not with jealousy. With fear. Longing.

Rio turns slightly toward her, voice quiet.

“You said you didn’t want to believe in marks. Fine. But you believe in us, don’t you?”

Agatha swallows. Her throat moves. She says nothing.

Rio reaches out - past you - and takes Agatha’s hand.

Her own mark, a slivered line along her forearm, flares to life.

Yours responds.

So does Agatha’s.

You’re not sure who breathes first, but the room shifts.

Something ancient wakes.

And for the first time, the space between the three of you doesn’t feel like a divide.

It feels like a circle, finally closed.

**********

The intention room is quiet when you arrive. Nestled at the back of the house, it feels like a secret - sun-drenched and filled with warmth, the air laced with the scent of cedarwood and rose. Everything here is hers - draped fabrics, enchanted wind chimes that hum without wind, a low table surrounded by plush floor cushions and scattered spell materials, all carefully organized in chaotic harmony.

Rio’s already seated when you step in, sleeves rolled, soulmark faintly pulsing under her skin. She’s adjusting a small brass bowl in the center of the table, filled with water that glows just faintly in the late afternoon light.

“You made it,” she says without looking up, her voice like dusk - soft, edged with amusement. “I wasn’t sure you’d come alone.”

You settle opposite her. “Agatha asked what we were doing. I told her it was none of her business.”

That gets Rio’s attention. She glances up, eyebrow raised, but doesn’t comment. Just gestures to the bowl.

“Water remembers,” she says. “And intention is the purest form of magic. We don’t speak. We don’t chant. We feel. And if it’s true enough, the water listens.”

You hesitate. “What kind of intention?”

“Something you’d never say out loud,” she replies. “At least not yet.”

The quiet between you deepens.

You close your eyes. Let the thought rise: I want to be wanted. Fully. Without conditions. Without caution.

You press your fingers to the water.

It shimmers, the surface rippling outward in a smooth, silvered pulse that lingers.

When you open your eyes, Rio is staring - not at the bowl. At you.

“Interesting,” she murmurs. “Very.”

You smile, just a little. “Your turn.”

She doesn’t hesitate. She touches the water.

And it moves - sharper than before. A surge, a flash, the energy thick for just a moment in the space between you.

“What did you give it?” you ask.

She lifts her hand, droplets falling back into the bowl. Her voice drops low.

“Desire. Wanting. The kind that knots in your stomach when someone walks into the room.”

You don’t breathe.

“Was it about me?”

Her eyes lock with yours. “Yes. But more than just wanting you. I asked it to hold the hope that you’d want me too.”

The soulmark under your skin glows warm, flickering faintly. Yours. Hers. Somewhere, you feel Agatha’s too, distant but aware.

The bond doesn’t flare - it settles. Tightens like thread between you.

There’s still time to pull away.

But neither of you do.

The water stills, but the silence between you trembles - thick with everything unspoken. Your fingers rest near the edge of the bowl, the memory of Rio’s touch still echoing in the surface.

She doesn’t move at first. Just studies you like she’s trying to read more than your face - like she’s listening to the bond itself.

Then, softly, “May I come closer?”

The question is simple, but your heart stutters.

You nod.

She shifts from her cushion, moving around the table until she’s beside you, close enough that the warmth of her body bleeds into your skin. Her knee brushes yours. Her hand rests near yours, palm open, waiting.

You place your fingers in hers.

It’s not fireworks. It’s gravity.

Slow and deep and inevitable.

She watches your face as her thumb brushes over your knuckles - just once, like a question.

“You feel it too,” she says quietly. Not asking. Knowing.

You swallow. “Yeah. I do.”

Her hand lifts, fingers grazing your wrist, tracing the edge of the mark hidden beneath your sleeve. Not enough to fully reveal it, just enough to acknowledge it. To recognize what’s been there all along.

Your breath catches.

Her touch drifts upward, feather-light along your arm, and then down again to rest at your thigh, grounding you.

Still not rushing. Still giving you the chance to pull away.

You don’t.

Rio shifts, leans in slowly, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze. She’s so close now you can feel the words before she says them.

“I want to kiss you.”

A beat.

You tilt your chin up. “Then do it.”

Her mouth brushes yours like a secret - soft and searching, the press of her lips delicate and reverent. She kisses you like the moment might break. Like you might.

But when you exhale into her, when your hand lifts to rest gently at the nape of her neck, something in her breaks open.

She deepens the kiss - not rough, not demanding, just more. Her other hand rises to cup your jaw, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth like she’s memorizing the shape of it.

And the mark flares.

A pulse of heat blooms beneath your skin, glowing faintly through the sleeve between where your arms meet. You feel her feel it, through the bond. The answering hum of hers. The third, still distant - Agatha, tethered by the same thread, brushing up against your awareness like a whisper in the back of your mind.

But right now, it’s just you and Rio.

Just the slow burn of her lips on yours, the soft sigh she lets out when your fingers twist into the fabric of her shirt, holding her to you.

She pulls back only slightly, forehead resting against yours. “I’ve been trying to be good,” she murmurs.

You smile, breathless. “I didn’t ask you to be.”

Her laugh is quiet and wrecked. “You don’t know what you’re inviting.”

You shift closer, whisper against her lips: “Show me.”

Rio kisses you again - slower now, deliberate. Her hand cups the back of your neck, anchoring you to her as her mouth moves with quiet urgency against yours. Her thigh brushes yours, just enough friction to set your skin alight beneath the fabric. She leans in closer, and for a moment, it feels like nothing else exists.

Just her breath against your cheek. The heat of her hand on your hip. The mark under your skin flickering with recognition, brighter now, stronger, echoing hers in syncopated rhythm.

Your hand slips under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the warm skin at her waist. She shivers beneath your touch, barely a sound, just a breath that catches. She leans into it like she’s starving for it. For you.

Her lips find the line of your jaw, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear.

“You feel good,” she whispers. “Gods, you feel like…”

She doesn’t finish.

Because something changes.

A sudden, subtle tug deep in your chest, like the thread between you has pulled taut in another direction.

Rio goes still.

You both feel it. That soft, magnetic pull - not painful, but insistent. A presence in the bond, stirring.

Agatha.

Not angry. Not even upset. Just present. Curious. Watching. And stronger now than before.

Rio lifts her head, her breath warm against your skin. “She’s pulling,” she says softly. “Not on purpose. I don’t think she realizes how much.”

You nod, pulse still racing. “It feels like…”

“Like she misses us.”

Rio exhales, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your cheek before drawing back.

“Come on,” she says, brushing your hair back with a soft touch. “Let’s at least pretend to finish the lesson.”

You laugh - quiet, shaky. “Yeah. Sure. Lesson.”

The two of you return to the low table, but the water no longer glows. The intention is scattered now, disrupted by heat and want and something far older than either of you fully understand. You try to settle, to focus, but your hands still tremble slightly.

Rio gives up first.

“Let’s call it,” she says, gathering the tools with practiced ease. “Neither of us is going to get anything useful done in this state.”

You nod, stomach still fluttering, and follow her out of the room.

But as you walk down the hall, you feel it again - the flicker of Rio’s eyes on you, the spark in the mark between your skin. Not gone. Just waiting.

The night stretches ahead.

And you have a feeling it’s far from over.

**********

You don’t remember making the decision to walk.

One moment you’re in your room, restless under the sheets, the mark humming faintly under your skin like a melody half-remembered. The next, you’re padding quietly down the hallway, drawn by something you couldn’t name if you tried.

The house isn’t silent - it breathes. Wood creaks like a sigh. The walls shift subtly, directing your steps. Lights bloom softly ahead of you and dim behind, coaxing you along as though it’s guiding you.

You pause at a door you don’t recognize - not yours. But you already know whose it is.

You don’t knock.

The door opens under your touch, and inside, Rio turns toward you.

She’s sitting on the bed, legs folded beneath her, her shirt rumpled and her mark glowing soft and gold. Across the room, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed like a shield across her chest, is Agatha.

Her expression flickers the moment she sees you - half relief, half resistance. “Of course,” she mutters, like she’s just lost an argument.

Rio smiles gently. “You came.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice hushed. “I just…ended up here.”

Agatha exhales sharply. “Because the house wants you to. Because the bond is doing what it does. Drawing you in.”

Rio pats the space beside her on the bed. “Come sit.”

You cross the room slowly. Agatha doesn’t move, but her gaze follows every step you take. When you sit, Rio turns toward you fully, one leg brushing yours.

“She’s scared,” Rio says quietly, eyes on you but voice pitched for Agatha. “Because we already have something. But she forgets that bonds aren’t cages. They’re invitations.”

“I’m not scared,” Agatha snaps, too quickly. Her voice drops into something bitter. “We’re already bonded. What we have is complete.”

“You feel it too,” Rio says, her hand reaching for yours. “I know you do.”

You glance toward Agatha. Her hands have clenched into fists at her sides. Her soulmark pulses faintly beneath the sleeve of her robe. Her throat works as if she’s trying to swallow something down.

Rio leans in - close enough to kiss. Her lips ghost over yours, and when she finally presses in, it’s soft, steady, filled with a reverence that hums through your veins.

And the mark flares.

It glows brighter - your arm warm with it, the bond stretching open like a door blown wide by wind. You feel seen. Wanted. Claimed.

Agatha’s breath catches audibly.

Rio breaks the kiss only to glance at her. “See?”

Agatha’s jaw tightens. “That doesn’t mean-”

“It means you’re next,” Rio says, not cruel, just certain. “You’re already tethered to both of us. You’ve just been too proud to admit it.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “And you think just kissing Y/N will-”

“Try it,” Rio interrupts, gaze unwavering. “And if nothing happens, I’ll never bring it up again.”

There’s a long silence.

Then, slowly, Agatha pushes off the wall. Each step she takes is deliberate, wary - like she’s approaching something dangerous. She stops in front of you, studying your face, searching for resistance.

She doesn’t find it.

She reaches out, fingers curling gently under your chin, tilting your head up.

“I shouldn’t want this,” she says, almost like a prayer.

“But you do,” you whisper.

And then she kisses you.

Unlike Rio’s, Agatha’s kiss is fire wrapped in armor - controlled and consuming, her hand firm at the back of your neck. The moment her lips press to yours, the mark erupts.

Gold. Violet. A third pulse of blue-green sparks through the bond like a song hitting its climax.

The house shudders around you - shutters rattle, magic blooming in the walls. Light swells through the wood like laughter, the chandelier chiming with joy above your heads.

Agatha breaks the kiss, stunned.

She stares at you, then at Rio. “What the hell…”

“You felt that,” Rio says, voice hoarse, awestruck. “Didn’t you?”

Agatha nods. Barely. “I-yeah.”

You reach for both of them now - one hand to Agatha’s waist, the other still twined with Rio’s. The bond thrums, a living, breathing thing. No longer flickering, but singing.

And it wants more.

The room is warm with possibility. With magic. With need.

The mark still glows - steady now, pulsing with quiet certainty.

Agatha’s breath comes in shallow waves. She’s still standing before you, her hand lingering at your jaw like she can’t quite let go. Like she’s afraid the moment will collapse if she pulls back too fast.

But it doesn’t.

You lean into her touch, your fingers curling gently around her wrist, calming her.

Rio is still seated beside you, her hand resting at the small of your back now - light pressure, a reminder that she’s here too, watching the bond settle into shape around the three of you.

The moment doesn’t rush.

It unfolds.

Agatha sinks slowly to her knees in front of you, hands sliding up to your thighs. She’s hesitant, not out of uncertainty, but reverence - like she’s handling something sacred. Something rare. She presses her lips to your knee, then your inner thigh, through the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. A kiss of apology. Of confession.

“I fought this,” she murmurs, voice low and rough. “Fought you.”

“I know,” you whisper, and your fingers thread into her dark hair.

Rio shifts behind you, her lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. “But you’re here now.”

The weight of her body settles against your back - comforting, anchoring. One of her hands slips under the hem of your shirt, spreading warm across your belly.

The magic hums louder now, the mark gleaming golden on your arm and mirrored in theirs. You feel the bond like a heartbeat in your blood - each of them pulsing at a different rhythm, but all in harmony with yours.

Agatha moves with care, lips trailing higher, her fingers slipping under the edge of your waistband. She pauses, looks up - waiting.

You nod.

Her hands slide your shorts down slowly, and Rio helps lift your shirt away, her mouth never leaving your skin. You feel held. Touched from both ends - Agatha’s kiss, Rio’s breath.

Exposed and wanted.

Agatha’s mouth follows her hands, slow and unhurried, like she wants to savor the way you tremble under her. She kisses your hip, then lower, while Rio shifts behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist as she settles at your side, her other hand rising to cup your breast.

She watches - breathless and spellbound - as Agatha parts your thighs with steady hands and leans in.

You gasp when Agatha’s tongue finds you, tentative at first - testing, then tasting with precision only she could possess. Her grip on your thighs tightens, grounding you as she begins to truly devour.

Rio kisses your shoulder, her hand stroking in slow, rhythmic circles just beneath your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffens beneath her palm.

“You should see yourself,” she whispers. “Glowing for us.”

You are.

Lit from within, the mark burning with golden light that reflects in Agatha’s eyes every time she glances up - lips glistening, dark hair falling around her face like shadow and silk.

You're wrapped in them.

And the bond pulses stronger than ever.

Agatha moans against you - a low, vibrating sound that rolls through your core and coils tight in your belly. Every flick of her tongue is deliberate, every press of her mouth confident and unbearably controlled, like she’s memorizing how you fall apart.

Your hips twitch, your breath catching, and Rio hums against your neck, voice a velvet thread pulling you tighter.

“You’re taking it so well,” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Letting her worship you.”

Agatha’s fingers dig into your thighs in response, just enough pressure to claim, to ground. She’s shaking a little now - whether from restraint or need, you don’t know. But the sound she makes when you tug gently at her hair is nothing short of feral.

The magic shifts again - thicker now, tangible. It dances across your skin, drawn from your soulmark and mirrored in theirs. Rio turns your face toward her, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

“Let me kiss you,” she breathes.

You nod, and she doesn’t wait - her mouth captures yours, lush and warm, tasting of wine and want. She drinks you in slowly, rhythm matched to Agatha’s mouth between your thighs. Her hand moves lower, trailing down your stomach, fingers brushing lightly, teasingly, until you're squirming under her touch.

“Please,” you whisper, unsure which of them you’re pleading to. Maybe both.

Rio smiles against your lips, then trails kisses down your jaw, your throat. “Gods, you're beautiful…”

Agatha groans in agreement, voice muffled as she presses in deeper, her pace growing more confident, more needy. You cry out, the sound caught in your throat as pleasure coils, sharp and fast, threatening to crest.

You feel them - truly feel them - through the mark now. Agatha’s hunger, Rio’s awe, their matching need twined with yours like a current. The bond isn’t a line anymore - it’s a loop, complete, spiraling with no beginning and no end.

The house seems to pulse with it, its walls humming like they’re singing along. Lights flicker in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“I-” you gasp, trembling.

Rio leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Let go.”

Agatha groans against you again, and that’s all it takes.

Your body arches, the world tilting sideways as the orgasm crashes over you - intense and slow and whole. Agatha holds you steady through it, her tongue still coaxing every last tremor from your core, and Rio strokes your hair, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your temple.

You feel like light.

Like fire.

Like you’ve been waiting to burn for them your whole life.

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

[rhymeswithchronic]

Soulmate AU

P-Polykour soulmate AU

Soulmate AU with soulmarks and it’s on their right bicep and it’s a golden band with a starry line through it like the 360 and Seawatt specifically wears his bangles over it so nobody can see it, EMF doesnt particularly try to hide it or show it off because it’s just kind of a part of his body and Evbo has literally torn one of the sleeves off of his hoodie so that he can constantly show it off to everyone who looks at him

And even after they’re together Seawatt still constantly tries to hide the thing and nobody understands why only to find out he’s just genuinely scared of the idea of people being bound to him like that because he’s afraid of failure and he’s afraid of failing THEM

My brain is rotting

[prankprincess123]

Having the Triforce on your hand is kinda like those soulmate fics where you have names on each wrist identifying your true love and arch enemy, except if you have the Triforce of Power you get two enemies because you literally cursed yourself to watch their awkward teenage romance and get beaten up by them repeatedly for eternity.

[uhhlifeig]

First Touch - Jan. 14th - word count: 531 - @wolfstarmicrofic

It was a well known fact in the Wizarding World that when someone touched their soulmate, a mark would appear. 

In the case of Remus Lupin, his mark had appeared somewhere around the first month of first year. 

His mark was right above his hip: the dog constellation, with the Sirius star perpetually shining.

The Sirius star.

Now, Remus knew that there was a chance that the universe had put them together, but he didn’t believe it. How could someone like Sirius Black ever love a poor half-blooded werewolf?

He was no fool. Remus had researched soulmates ever since he saw the mark, and he had found one particularly distressing piece of information: some people had soulmarks that never matched with anyone else’s.

Knowing his luck, Sirius wasn’t destined to be with him.

So Remus had never shown another soul his soulmark- except for Lily, of course, as she was a wonderful human being who would never judge him. Totally.

Oh, how he loved sarcasm.

Just then, Sirius flopped onto the couch next to him, evidently back from his walk. He had a twig in his hair, Remus noticed. Not that it made him any less beautiful- quite the contrary.

“Moony!” Sirius grinned, silver eyes shining. “What are you reading?” 

Remus showed him the cover. It wasn’t anything exciting; it was just a Transfiguration textbook.

Sirius snorted. “Swot.”

“Oi,” he grumbled. “At least I know stuff.” Sirius opened his mouth, probably to come up with a clever retort. He cut him off before he could say a word. 

“So, did Padfoot enjoy your walk?” Remus asked. 

Sirius pouted, nodding. Damn, that pout was adorable. He wanted to kiss it away.

But no. Pull yourself together, Lupin.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius yawned, stretching. “Well, I’m gonna head up,” he said, already making his way up the stairs to the dorm. “Come with, Moons?”

“Yeah, sure,” Remus responded. He got up, following Sirius up the stairs and into the room.

“So, Moons,” Sirius began awkwardly. “I think, er-” he was getting redder by the second. 

“What do you think?” Remus asked gently. 

“I think you might be my soulmate, Remus,” Sirius exclaimed. The words flowed together so that Remus could barely discern what he was saying. 

Then it hit him like a freight train.

“You- we- what?” he stuttered, shocked.

Sirius nodded, exposing his hip. Remus saw a moon sitting there in all of its glory.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Well, Pads, d’you want to see mine?”

Sirius nodded confusedly. 

Remus gave himself a moment to gather himself. It was too late to back out now. He pulled down the corner of his trousers, exposing the Canis Major constellation that lay there. 

Sirius sucked in a breath. “Moony,” he whispered. “I didn’t- I don’t-” He sighed, obviously frustrated at the absence of words. “Are you mad that it’s me?” he finally choked out.

Remus stepped closer to him. “I would never. Are you mad that it’s me?”

Sirius frowned, pulling Remus into a hug. “I would never,” he said, echoing Remus’s words. Then he looked up hopefully. “Kiss me?”

Remus obliged. How could he not?

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

Chapter 15

Masterlist

Twice tumblr has lost my update on this with photos and edits ugh! Frustrating! That being said sorry for any errors!

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around, scary situations.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the day off?” Ayen asked over breakfast.

“You skipped yesterday afternoon. There is work that needs to be done. You and Lix are filming challenges today with Itsy. Chan, Lino, and Minnie have an interview. Hyune and Binnie have photoshoots for several ambassadorships. And Binnie has studio time and a YouTube video to film with me.” You tick off all the major things on todays to do list. “And I have editing to do, and my own photoshoot is being released today. We are busy.”

Ayen rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He pouted into his food.

You didn’t even mention that you would need to make some form of appearance at all these things to make sure everything was all good and running smoothly in the contract and agreements. You would be running non-stop; you couldn’t afford a day off. You couldn’t even afford to have breakfast, but after missing a week of meals you didn’t dare suggest skipping.

There was also a concert series coming up that needed a concept. Thinking of things that they hadn’t already done before was hard. You didn’t want to seem like you were just copying the ones who did this before you. You still needed to make a name for yourself, and you couldn’t afford to be compared to the old staff.

You started a list of what would need to be done in order to get the ball rolling on all of that. Starting with getting venues and announcing the whole thing.

You ended the day with Bin in the studio filming a little side video series you were sure STAY would love. A 3racha exclusive on the process of creating a song from start to finish. Well, most of the process. It would be simplified and compressed for entertainment over actual teaching. And each of them had certain things they wanted to keep from the video. Ways and things they did that were personal and private. And at the end of the miniseries, they would get to hear the song 3racha had been working on.

“You seem to be feeling better. Did last night help?” Bin asked after you had been working a bit. He was currently on a program on the computer, he had just gotten done vaguely explaining the program and how they use it to create music.

“It was nice to get everything out in the open and cuddle. I missed everyone while I was gone.” You replied, trying to keep up with what he was doing. He was so professional at this that he clicked through actions faster than you could comprehend.

He nodded, still working. “Yeah, it feels good to get it out. All this does get easier as you learn to navigate it. Chans right though. We are all here for you, and we all have our breaking points.”

You nod but freeze when his word register in your brain. “Chan told you about last night?” You couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed and hurt. You hadn’t asked him not to tell anyone, but you had assumed he wouldn’t since he knew you were embarrassed and upset about the whole thing. You had thought he would keep it between you and him.

Bin seemed to sense you were upset and stopped working to turn to you and give you his complete attention. “A couple of us are light sleepers. We woke up when you guys were talking.” He explained. “But we don’t have secrets anyways. It’s almost impossible with how much we are together, but it’s also dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“If any secrets came out at the wrong time it could end badly. Especially if it catches us off guard. And it causes more hurt and fights in the end. Its just better to be open and not have any.”

“That’s easier said than done. People have secrets for a reason.”

Bin shrugged. “True, and im sure we have one or two small ones here and there. The point is, you can lean on us. Between the nine of us, there is nothing we can’t conquer.”

You slumped into your chair. “I do lean on you. A lot. Too much already.”

Bin just leaned over with a smile and kissed your hairline. “Just remember we love you no matter what.”

You both got back to working on the video, having had enough serious talk for the moment. You tried to ask questions you were curious about or that you didn’t quite understand when he explained it the first time. Keeping in mind what you thought STAY would be interested in as well. But you couldn’t help but be insanely curious for yourself.

Bin was infinitely patient, walking you through the answers and even letting you play on the system yourself. Creating - albeit a bad – 6 second snippet of sound in the process.

You laugh as he played the unpleasant sound back. “I should just stick to my videos and social media.”

Bin patted your head gently. “Yeah, you probably should.”

You gasp in feigned shock. “You are supposed to tell me it was good!”

“I would never like to you like that, Jagi.”

You stuck your tongue out playfully and laughed again as he shoved you gently with his shoulder.

“Let’s get home before the others send a search party.” He started saving his work and shutting everything down.

You started to do the same with your equipment. Ending the recording and packing up your notes on the session for when you edit the 3 hours of footage down to less than one hour that watchers will remain interested in the whole time. But that part was a job for tomorrow.

Bin folded your fingers together as you walked to the waiting car, playfully swinging your arms back and forth.

“Hey, its out of the intended order, but Lino can’t decide what to do for his date, so do you want to do our date tomorrow night?” He asked as you started the ride home.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you smiled widely. “Yes! Where are we going?” You shook your hands in excitement, taking Bins hand too since you were still holding it.

Bin breathed out a chuckle. “How about dinner first, then a trip to build a bear to make each other a bear.” He looked over at you to get your reaction.

There was no need for him to be nervous though. You would be okay with anything; however, this idea made you squeal and kick your feet. It was so sweet! “Oh my god its so perfect! I had to donate most of my stuffed animals when I moved here!”

He smiled widely at your reaction, relieved. “You are so cute.” You blush at the compliment, still not used to them. “This date will be different though.” He warned. “We won’t be able to hide our identities and continue to keep security around.

“So, drop security.” You shrug. Easy solution. You hadn’t even gotten a security team yet. And you hadn’t really gone anywhere alone, so usually the security team of whoever you were with took over that role for you as well. It was unfair for them, but anytime you got security assigned to you they only lasted a day or two before disappearing.

And you weren’t sure you really needed security anyways. It seemed excessive. The crowds outside the locations your soulmates went were usually well contained by that location’s security and not interested in you beyond shouting questions and the occasional diss.

“No, Y/n! It’s dangerous to go out without security! Especially for you!”

“Why especially for me?”

“Because – because there is so much negativity on you right now. And you haven’t learned how to navigate your fans safely yet.”

Your fans? “I don’t have fans, Binnie baby. And your fans are usually pretty respectable if not excitable.” You felt defensive of your fellow STAY members.

Bin shifted in his seat to face you fully. “You know there are crazier, unstable fans out there. Dangerous fans. And you’ve seen the comments on your stuff. We need to make sure you are safe!” He was almost pleading with you.

You suppose he had a point. Some of the stuff you came across was graphic and scary. But you thought it had died down some now that they had had a bit of time to get used to the idea of you. “Okay, Bin. We won’t ditch security.”

He relaxed some. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek. He was sweet. And he revealed an unintentional secret they had been keeping from you. They have been keeping tabs on the comments about you and were more worried then they let on.

That made you nervous. You had been gleefully telling yourself that there was nothing to worry about if your soul mates weren’t worried about it. Now that you knew they were actually worried, it changed a few realities for you.

“So, how nervous should I be, then?” You ask. You watched as Bin seemed to pause to think about his answer. “Remember what you said about keeping secrets. Unless keeping them from me doesn’t count?” Moral blackmail, but you didn't want to be kept in the dark.

“Of course you count!” His reply was immediate.

“I was only teasing. I realize you didn’t tell me how worried you were for my own sanity. Im not really upset.”

“We weren’t exactly keeping it from you. Just downplaying our concern a bit. Mostly because we want to protect you from everything.”

“That’s very sweet of you all, but hate and danger are a part of this life. And I need to learn to work with it just like anything else. Sheltering me will not help in this situation.” You explain gently.

Bin sighs in defeat, making you smile in triumph. “We are worried about some of the more threatening comments.” He reconfirmed. “And we cant be around to protect and watch over you all the time. It drives us crazy!”

“That’s what security is for. When they find a team that sticks with me, that is.”

Bin scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s our fault. Chan convinced JYP to let us pick your team so we could be sure they were good enough. And apparently finding a team for you that we all agree on is a lot harder than we originally thought.”

And suddenly, it made sense why the teams assigned to you only lasted a few days. “Bin.” You chided gently. “This is their job. Their livelihood. You can't just keep firing them.”

“Only you would be more concerned for them than your own safety.”

“You guys have a week to pick a team, or im taking over. And I know nothing about picking security.” You warned him. Then, just for good measure, you opened the group chat to tell the others, too.

You laughed and looked up as you slowed to a stop. You were home.

This time you hooked your arm in Bins as you walked, liking that it felt closer to a walking cuddle and that you could smell him from this close.

That night you crawled into bed with Lino – who didn’t say a word as he tucked your side of the blanket around you and kissed your shoulder before settling back down. As the only other one besides Bin to invite you into his bed you were excited to finally take advantage of it.

The next day you were so giddy for your date with Binnie that you actually knocked off work earlier because you just couldn’t concentrate anymore. Couldn’t sit still and watch the clock tick slower and slower. Instead, you busy yourself finding the perfect outfit to wear.

Bin took you to eat first. It was a steakhouse. “This place has the best fries.” He proclaimed as he pulled the chair out for me like a gentleman.

“That’s a big compliment coming from you.” You smiled. You had noticed he always tried fries at new places. They were his favorite food, so he says. Personally you don’t know how anyone can pick a favorite when there were so much good food out there to enjoy.

In the end you had to admit he may be right. They were some of the best fries you had ever had in recent memory.

Then at build a bear you each created a bear for the other. He kept trying to sneak a peak at the bear you were making for him, hiding behind the stuffing machine and shelves to get a look when you weren’t paying attention. You threw a toy hairbrush at him to chase him off.

You each customized your bears with recordings, clothing, and accessories. You laughed out loud as you found an accessory that looked like a little container of fries. It was perfect for this date. A nice little reminder of the delicious dinner you two had had together.

On the walk back to the car you carried the bear he made for you proudly, forgoing the cute little house box they usually gave you. Your bear had a cute little pink dress on, a pink bow hooked around one ear, and a cell phone accessory. You loved it.

You giggled, grinning stupidly as you wrapped one arm around Bins waist and cuddled the bear with the other. “She is so cute, Binnie! Thank you!” You reach up to kiss him under his jaw, loving the flustered little smile he got in response.

You were aware of the STAY crowd that had followed you the whole date and were wary of doing much more than that around them. However, you would not be gagged and scared by them either. This was your first date with Bin, and you were going to show him your appreciation. Respectably.

Beyond being aware of them, you didn’t really pay attention to the crowd and their yelling and waving. You were focused on your date, let security do their job.

And, just for Lino’s peace of mind you made sure to check in periodically through the group chat. Simply updating with a picture of the date and moving on, not even reading the responses.

The only incident all night happened just as you were about to get into the car to head home. And it really had nothing to do with you. A large number of STAY had somehow managed to push through security and rush Bin, shoving you aside in the process and forcing the two of you apart. You lost sight of Bin in the mob, and you were squeezed and shoved between all the STAYs trying to force themselves closer to him.

It was honestly scary, and you were afraid you would lose your footing and end up being trampled by all the fans around you not caring about casualties. So, you clung tight to your bear and focused on keeping your feet under you and head down. Security would get things under control soon.

The crowd had become deafening, screaming in your ears. You had no idea what they were screaming or who they were screaming at because it all blended together into a painful ringing. It didn’t matter anyways.

You weren’t sure how long you were being crushed by the mob before Bins voice cut through the screams and familiar arms brought you close, pulling you into the safety of a warm chest you were familiar with. You immediately clung on tightly.

“I got you, babe, don’t worry.” Bin spoke right in your ear, sounding stressed, but firm. You had no doubts. You nodded into his shirt, and he cupped the back of your head securely.

Between him and security, you two made it to the car and he got you inside quickly and secured the door. “You okay?” He asked a bit breathlessly.

You nodded and hummed in affirmation heart still racing, but unharmed.

He gripped your chin lightly and turned you to face him, inspecting your expressions. He looked worried, but it wasn’t you that he should be worried about. You just got caught in the crowd. He was the one who was mobbed.

“Are you okay?” You repeat his question back at him.

“I’m fine. This was an attack, Y/n! They ripped you away from me on purpose!”

You rolled your eyes. “Duh, Bin. But they didn’t try and hurt me.”

Bins eyes widened at your nonchalance. “They could have! Easily! What if they shoved you to the ground? They would have trampled you to death before I could get to you!”

You rub at his biceps comfortingly. “But they didn’t. I managed to stay on my feet until you got to me, like I knew you would. And security did their job and got us both safely to the car.”

Bin let out a relieved breath and plunked his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You continue to rub comfortingly up and down his arms, reassuring him that you were unharmed and safe.

Despite the stress and fear from the minor mishap you still stopped Bin at the apartment door to give him a proper kiss. It was the only right way to end an amazing date, really. And this was an amazing date.

He was still flushed tomato red when you both walked through the front door, and you were smiling ear to ear.

This time it was Channie who met you at the door in a panic. “Are you both okay?”

Unbelievable. How did he know already? Did you miss a text? You didn’t even see Bin on his phone on the way home! He was mostly touchy and clingy, constantly checking to make sure you were still okay.

“Security informs me of all incidents.” Chan answered your exasperated, questioning look.

“We are fine. She barely blinked. I was more freaked out than she was.” Bin replied for us, rolling his eyes.

You shrugged. “I will not apologize for having complete and total trust in my soulmate.” Then you held up your bear. “Look at what Binnie made me on our date!” You waggled the bear side to side in front of Chan, smiling.

Chan rubbed the bears head with a fond smile. “Cute.”

You skipped into the living room. Everyone but Lino and Hannie were there already, sitting on various furniture with the TV playing some show you had never seen before.

“Hannie and Lino went on their own date.” Lix explained when you asked after them.

Nodding you curled up with Ayen on the overstuffed chair – stealing half his blanket. For his part, Ayen didn’t seem to mind, shifting to make room for you before going back to watching TikTok videos on his phone.

Bin and Chan were still in the doorway talking quietly. You assumed Bin was giving him more information about what happened earlier. But eventually they both joined you and Bin showed off his own bear while plopping on the couch next to Hyune, throwing an arm around him.

It seemed everyone was waiting for the other two to get home.

When you pulled out your phone to catch up on the replies to your updates and maybe play a game or two you were shocked to see more than just the photos of your date with Bin. Lino and Hannie were sending updates of their own.

They had gone to this cute little Sanrio café and got themed drinks and food. The photos of both were just too adorable and you couldn’t believe that either of them had the heart to ruin the artistry in order to eat and drink them. They looked like they were having a good time.

🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸🧸

A/N i know nothing about music production/creation. I made it up.

Yet Unnamed Taglist: @fackeraccount @velvetmoonlght @hyunjinstolemyheart @vampkittenb82 @happy-jj @estella-novella @demigoddreamon-blog @tiana-maxivar @ms-flowergirl @jennibahng @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @mimimiloomeelomi @simpforskz143148 @xxeiraxx @lil-bear08 @brbwritingfanfic @jisungs-iced-americano @zofia515 @missvanjii @malyxsoulpersonal @silentreadersthings @pixie0627 @ramadiiiisme

[bluemari23]

hello soulmate | min yoongi

summary: your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

pairing: min yoongi x hype employee reader

genre: soulmate au, soulmarks, fluff,

warnings: running, unhappy coworkers, some injury

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

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Running was not your forte, and neither was breathing apparently as you choke trying to get air into your lungs as you reach the fortunately empty elevator. 

You were running late, and you were seconds away from being fired on your third day of work. You had just gotten the job as one of the content creators for a variety show through one of the big four entertainment companies, and today was the first official day at the company. 

HYBE was bigger than you imagined, and thus, the reason you were late. You had gotten lost on the first floor and then there were issues with your ID card getting past security. But you manage to reach the 12th floor in record time and use the piece of paper you received the last meeting to find the correct room. 

It was slight chaos when you opened the door, unsurprisingly as you now realized who you would be working with for the variety show. Everything was kept top secret until you were approved by HYBE and showed up on the first day, after signing numerous NDA’s of course. 

The BTS boys were having fun and running amuck as they waited for the shoot to start. It was supposed to be just a fun shoot, numerous arcade games set up throughout the room and a table set in the middle where some challenges were going to take place later on. 

You looked around after taking in the room, trying to set eyes on your director. Eventually you find him talking to your fellow creators, going over the different challenges that would be taking place. 

“—After the water bottle challenge, we’re going to move onto the karaoke booth.” You arrive just at the tail end of the run through, but you manage to understand anyways, seeing as you all had a copy of the schedule for the day. 

“Where have you been? Never mind, you’re working on the individual camera today.” Your director questions you but doesn’t give you any time to explain yourself before moving on and assigning you your task. You quickly nod your head, before moving to grab one of the video cameras from the table. 

You would be in charge of taking individual behind the scenes videos and photos for the social media accounts. You had seen episodes of Run BTS before and knew how much moving you would be doing today. 

Again. Running wasn’t your thing. 

“What are you doing?” You turn your head to see a slightly older woman in front of you, her hands on her hips as she looks towards the camera in your hands. 

“I was assigned individual shots today, Ma’am.” You respond as politely as you can, getting bad feelings from the woman in front of you. 

You could almost feel that you would be having problems with her. You tried to be respectful though, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes on your first official day. 

The woman just looked you up and down, her nose crinkling a little before she spoke. “Just don’t get in my way. I’ve been doing this longer than you have and don’t need some inexperienced newbie messing up my photos.” 

You can only nod before she is walking past you, bumping into your shoulder on her way past. 

‘What the heck?’ you think, turning to watch as she steps forward and begins to talk to one of the supervisors who was in the middle of talking to Namjoon. Shaking your head, you move to the edge of the set, close to the basketball arcade shot game. 

You had a good view of the other games from here and felt you could maneuver through the set easier from where you were set up. Bringing your camera up to your eyes, you begin taking some practice shots, making sure the lighting was good and the settings on the camera aligned with what you wanted to photograph.

It took you some time, but eventually you were able to begin taking photos of the boys who had come back to mess around with the games after getting changed and before the actual shoot started. 

You were so focused on the pictures that you didn’t even notice one of the boys moving up to you. 

“Hi! You must be one of the new creators! I’m Taehyung.” The bright eyed man bounced right up to you when he noticed you, hand held in front of you to shake your hand as he introduced himself. 

You put your camera down, smiling softly as you brought your hand to meet his, introducing yourself. As you did, you caught his attention on your wrist, where your soulmark resided. The initials of your soulmate were written in short, quick writing, the gray M and Y staring back up at you since the minute you turned sixteen. 

Taehyung’s smile only seemed to widen once you introduced yourself, a twinkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before. You could barely blink before the director was calling for the boys to get into place; the shoot was about to begin. 

You smile as you watch him bounce away again, his energy levels palpable as you hold your camera up again. 

The next hour was spent moving slowly throughout the edge of the set up game room, trying to get as many good shots as you could. You noticed that Taehyung gravitated towards you and seemed to pull Yoongi with him to play the basketball game, Jungkook following behind to try and battle against the basketball player. 

You moved closer to get a picture of both boys making a basket and scoring a point when someone stepped on your foot causing pain to radiate up your ankle and shin. A gasp leaves your lips as you look towards your left to see the woman from earlier, a glare set on her dark eyes as she almost pushes you aside. 

You end up tripping over the cord to another game and just barely manage to catch yourself on the corner of said game before injuring yourself or ruining the shoot. You were so focused on the pain in your foot you didn’t even notice the burning in your wrist as your soulmark gets darker. 

You didn’t notice the three men witnessing the entire thing, nor the dark looks Taehyung was sending to the older woman. A break was luckily called soon enough and you tried to move away back to the far wall but a hand on your arm stops you.

“What was that? I thought I told you not to get in my way?!” The older woman steps in front of you, her hand still gripping tightly to your forearm. 

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. It won’t happen again.” You grit out as politely as you can, the pain in your ankle making you want to sit down but you knew you needed to just go along with what she was saying, not wanting any trouble. 

“No. Don’t apologize.” You both turn to your right to see Taehyung, Yoongi and Jungkook, all three eyeing the hand gripping onto your forearm. The woman is quick to release you when she realizes what the boys were seeing. 

“Oh boys! Don’t worry about this. I’m just giving some advice to the newbie.” The woman was quick to put on the sweet tone as she speaks to them. You just want to roll your eyes. 

Pulling your arm back to your chest, rubbing against where you knew her grip was going to leave some bruises. Your sleeve had rolled back down and your forearm was on full display, along with your soulmark. 

“Advice? It seemed like you stepped on and pushed someone out of the way. That is not okay nor something we want to see happen between our employees.” Yoongi’s voice was low, each word spoken slowly as if to ensure the woman knew exactly what she had done. 

Jungkook moved to you while Taehyung and Yoongi were talking to the woman, his hand holding onto your own, softly and a huge contrast to the woman as he tilts your forearm around to see the spot where the woman held you.

The skin was red and he knew it would bruise. This was unacceptable and he would make sure that the woman would be reprimanded for her actions. As Jungkook continued to look over your arm, his attention was caught by your soulmark, his hyungs initials on the inside of your wrist. 

‘No wonder Taehyung kept bringing him to where you were…’ Jungkook mused, a small smile on his lips as the thought of Taehyung trying to bring you two together. 

Well, no time like the present. 

Taehyung agreed, as his next words caught the attention of everyone. 

“You hurt Yoongi’s mate.” Your eyes widened as your head turned quickly to see Yoongi already staring at you, your faces both sharing the expression of shock. Jungkook was still holding your wrist, bringing you the two feet until you were right in front of Yoongi. 

You were silent, trying to process everything as Yoongi looked down at your held out wrist, his initials written in his own handwriting. Slowly, he pulled his own sleeve up, showing you his soulmark. 

Your initials were written in your own soft script, smooth cursive showing on his inner wrist, the same spot as your own. 

You were lost in your own world, oblivious to all of the noise and emotions happened outside the two of you. Yoongi slowly brought his hand to your wrist, his thumb rubbing over the top of your soulmark, gray turning to a dark black as the soulbond snaps into place confirming Taehyung’s suspicions. 

“Hello, soulmate.” A gummy smile burns into your retina, a memory you never want to forget as warmth erupts in your soul.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

DC X DP Soulmarks AU. Everyone has a soulmark somewhere on their body. The mark heats up if you’re in the same city as your soulmate

So Dani is around 17. Her soulmark is the green silhouette of Cujo just above her ankle. She been traveling for around 5 years now. Jazz (23) lives in Gotham as a therapist. The Anti ecto acts are in place.

Damian is also 17. His mark is on his hip, just below his shirt hem. It doesn’t really matter if he’s Robin or a different vigilante. Attends Gotham academy as a senior. Damian was always taught to believe that his soulmate was a weakness.

Dani stops by Gotham for the first time since Jazz moved there, and she decides she to stay after her soulmark heats up. After a little bit of forging, she attends GA as a senior. She covers her soulmark with pants and stuff like that.

She and Damian have a few classes together, and they get paired up for a project.

They go to library to study and found that they both enjoy each others company a lot more than they thought they would. They keep hanging out until they start to have a small crush on each other.

Damian doesn’t mention Dani to the Wayne brood in case they might pester him and stalk him and ruin his chances with Dani.

One day, they are hanging out and Dani’s pant leg slides up a bit and Damian saw Dani’s soulmark.

That same hour, Damian’s shirt rides up and Dani see his soulmark.

They essentially have the same reaction.

Dani: Damian is literally perfect and I’m so happy he’s my soulmate but we can’t be together because I’m a halfa and the AEA are ongoing so it’s too dangerous to tell him

Damian: Dani is literally perfect and I’m so happy she’s my soulmate but we can’t be together because I’m a vigilante and my mother is very deadly and it’s too dangerous to tell her

They just hide their feelings and continue like nothing every happened

At around the same time, Danny comes to Gotham tour the university when he meets Duke and they realize they’re soulmates.

After a couple of dates. Danny takes Duke to meet Dani and Jazz (Duke knows about Danny’s halfa status)

Duke sees Dani’s mark and asks her about it, thinking it’s a bit familiar.

Dani tells Duke she’s found her soulmate, but they can’t be together for now.

Duke comes home and (after making sure that Damian’s soulmark is the same as Dani’s) tell Damian that he knows who his soulmate is.

Damian confirms that he knows, but can’t be with her because he a vigilante.

Cue the multiple (failed) attempts by Duke and Danny to get them together

Useable as long as you tag me :))